When you were a boy [sic] you found yourself trapped inside a screen looking back through the arc of glass while your sixth grade internet search history took your seat at the dinner table, having the nerve1
to ask for seconds.
It’s as if the whole thing is made up,,, I mean do they really think people will buy this shit???
I concentrate on my hands2
, their weight, the weight of the acrylic. I trim them and wonder what part of them is real.
We walked into the woods because it wasn’t visible from the street and even though it was shaded I could still feel the sun soaking into my skin3
It simulates the effect of a physical camera including the distortion caused by glass that deforms and bends physically straight lines and makes them appear curvy4 .
I freeze hoping they will see right through the fleshiness I feel in my pockets. They are scolded but they will never know what caused it and if you ask them you will learn not to ask again, the thought of which makes your stomach dissolve into a viscous liquid that creeps up the back of your neck making me forget, if not entirely, what it feels like to be in a body5
1. (in the body) a whitish fiber or bundle of fibers that transmits impulses of sensation to the brain or spinal cord, and impulses from these to the muscles and organs. 2. the end part of a person’s arm beyond the wrist, including the palm, fingers, and thumb. 3. an outer layer or covering, in particular. “I use body lotion to keep my skin soft” 4. informal (especially of a woman’s figure) shapely and voluptuous. 5 give material form to something abstract.