Nausea
An object, location, or idea is not an object, location, or idea. It is the self’s latest extension into
real meaning. We were all, just prior to ourselves, entering the world through a wholeness of
bodies. I said to myself, “Now this is it.” Myself replied, “It always has been.” In this order, I
was in love with the reputation of joy, then with the representation of joy, then with joy itself.
“Art is a lonely faith,” I said to the mirror. Then it dawned on me that this world is none of my
business.
Demonstrations of Humanity Ensue
Light and shadow are the only intelligent beings in this world. Do you remember when you were
dreaming of unstained glass and retired altars? How the present congregation then became a
surreal object? We are distancing now from the narrative, forming a moat around conscious
thought— the organs of our hearts taken out and dissected, one by one.
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Bee Morris is the author of Alive on Planet Earth, released as part of Ghost City Press's 2021 Summer Series. Their recent work appears or is forthcoming in Wax Nine, Poet Lore, Underblong, Hobart, and elsewhere. Bee also runs the newsletter Blackout Fascinations: blackout.substack.com.