Looking deep inside the mirror, he thinks: I am wholly contained inside my skin. His image coats the surface of his eye. He presses his elbow into his side. He squeezes his fist and wrings out his bicep. His body, steaming, stands before him in the grey, sending signals: his image back and forth between him, grey, satiated. He stretches his lips, presses his cheeks into his eyelids and sends up a special kind of prayer. You beast. He strains to call forth his deathless name: Monster. Monster.
With you I share this little piece of self, for the temporality of days in which our presence lacks and lingers, slithers and soothes, smiles in remembrance—a game: I said, ‘One plus one is two.’ You said, ‘I promise you.’ And this self I share with you, I share with none other.