Period Piece

Failed every period

Did baroque badly

Afraid of blood

Dream was too lonely

I chose keeping it together

In these IKEA white walls

Of my post-war Nordic silence

But only desire is real

I must find some kind of art form

Where I can call my tongue back from the underground

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

In the doctor's office my speculum pulls me open

Spacing the space

Accidental sci-fi

Regulating my aperture, vagine savant

Some people find it painful

But all I feel is connected

All I feel is connected

There must be some kind of art form

Where I can call my blood

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

Don't be afraid

It's only blood