the tragedy of laymen
all becoming Frankensteins

stitching themselves
fragments of ugly
remnants of other Frankensteins

we complain of broken hearts
liars, we have no hearts

we complain of longing
impossible when we have no belonging

we complain
of not being whole
scalpel in hand
barbarians with technology


bits and pieces of nothing connected
attempted weavesthreaded inconsistency
wasted human garments
take a close look what’s in your hands now
take a hard look,
what can your hands do?
but what do they do?

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