My arm is intelligent
Everything makes up one keen organism
The hands that hold the head
Whatever is necessary to hate
Everything makes up one keen organism
Would I grow over you?
Whatever is necessary to hate
Nakedness sits in our longings
Would I grow over you?
We are not present in our bodies
Nakedness sits in our longings
I walk through an unfamiliar landscape.
We are not present in our bodies
The hands that hold the head
I walk through an unfamiliar landscape.
My arm is intelligent