• The Cambridge Cult

bodyflesh on a metal frame

Updated: Apr 28

By Emily Yelverton


Bodyflesh on a metal frame.

Through the beige blown tumescence

I dream of perfect silicone globes

extending into the distance like a hemisphere.

Rubber legs that sprout from someone else splayed

halfway across the room.

The smell of machinating bodies

bleached into oblivion, a marbleised lab

-top over skin.

Too pliant, too soft, too malleable.

I want to be hard shiny plastic

covering a molten metal core.

It will spill from my mouth, from between my legs,

over the raw tissues on the dragging latex.

To corrode

through the bodyflesh and greet the metal frame.

There will be none of me here.

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