When it happens / there

I am training myself in how to feel it here, underneath a left-hand cuticle. Mostly at night I train myself, when what I feel is not what has happened.

signal / a butchered response

signal / who is holding the axe?

It’s the job of nerve endings to pick up harm in the periphery, wherever you come to an end. I get up to piss. My Person feels me leaving, his cochlear nerve tuned past our first languages. There’s a wave of wildfires moving through Siberia.

In such a knotted system / what counts as a periphery?

(Has anyone ever hit a nerve — punched it, and watched as it fell?)

When is on touching terms with where only if you shut your eyes or open your nerves wider, crack those bastards ajar at the rim. Could you burn the living ends through their cotton wool coatings.

I don’t mean about being raw,

but about rawing.