My eyes are scalpels
and I am a surgeon.
Incisions into our creature anatomy,
listen to this speaking flesh,
a dialect of tension and arousal.
Opening and closing wounds
sutured with fibers and pulp and paste.

My eyes are arrows
and I am a hunter.
Stalking meat and fat and bone,
I slaughter out of love
and curiosity.
Smear wax and oil,
a ritual to honor the corporeal
and the phenomenal.
Wear this skin anew and be human no more,
become feral.

My eyes are cleavers
and I am a butcher.
Exsanguinate and slurp gasping tension,
carve flesh and devour squirming arousal.
Creations of destructive dis-figurations:
and omissions.
All a vivisection of guts and goose bumps,
revealing subjectless individuations.