to the human form
has the same natural urge
for violence.
Perception is also skin-like
is also crushed by its own field
with its on frame to tend to
crouching like a voluptuous nude,
among the cornstalk,
flanked by the waist side.
The body realizes
its in the wrong place
that it has never moved
screeching at the transparency
of its form,
tempting to reach out,
to be the image
beyond its environment,
groping for a face,
escaping through the mouth
But with no legs for landing
it rumbles with its mass of bone
coddling the floor
crowned under the wattage
of wriggling light bulbs.

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