So, my eyes are shut and
I’m lying down,
on my belly usually (during a massage,
or fucking, for example),
and I sort of lose the knowledge of,
             you know,
my place in the world:
the way I look, how tall I am, even
how long my arm is
compared to my head or
how far it is from my knee
to my foot
and I have these visions of a
strangely proportioned version of me,
or someone else that reminds me of me
(in some small way)
but is nothing like the me in my head
when I’m, you know,
u
p
r
i
g
h
t,
eyes wide,
and I start to feel scared in case,
when I come to,
I’m not the same me I thought I was
and maybe I could just stay in there
l o n g  a r m s  s t r e t c h e d
like blu-tack
and toeslikepins,
muscles peeling back and forth
with the pressure of movement,
my organs expanding          outward          until
they’re ( )pen
and exp( )sed –

but
what if that’s the real me and
not this collection of mostly proportioned
limbs and torso and bruises and the
make-up that I rubbed into my eyes and
the blisters on the backs of my heels
from shoes that I know are
too small, but wear anyway, because
they’re pointy in the way that I like,
maybe if I just
keep my eyes shut
I could skip all that
and live my myth alone
and stretched

 


Claire Albrecht participated in MAKE! ART! NOW! as part of This is Not Art 30 September – 2 October 2016.MAKE! ART! NOW! is an initiative to creatively bring together TINA’s three parties – Critical Animals, National Young Writers’ Festival and Crack Theatre Festival.

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