Your nose
a workhorse
smelling and smelling
a conveyor belt
of pleasure and revolt
your eyes
holes with no bottom
darting like minnows
carving upside down pictures of it all
into the cave walls
of your skull
your mouth
so fleshy and wet
like a fish
or a heart
not meant to be
on the outside
your ears
magnets for whispers
and roars
and your skin
your wrapping paper
sit on your hands
let the square on the back of your neck
have a turn.
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