You are in a dark room, a strange womb
- not your mothers.
You are a cyst on a young woman’s ovary,
cell changes in her book of poetry.
You are suspicious shadows on a screen of codes.
You are the aggressor in a battle between good and evil nodes,
a moment of dwelling, a morbid swelling,
and most of all you are a fortune telling.
You are a young disputant
touched by a metaphorical pollutant.
Inflamed, infested, nasty, toxic, deadly, destructive, fatal, infective, dirty, cancerous, radioactive, filthy, mortal and sore,
you are all this to me and much more.
When you peel off your skin does it reveal something pure?
Are the scars worth it? You better be sure.
When you clean yourself, where do you store the dirt?
In constant longing for decontamination,
your true wish is to convert
from this senseless state of immensive hate,
towards something ungraspable - was it something you ate?
Mutants arise by mutation.
Are all your worries caused by errors of a DNA replication?
Your body is in trouble,
other bodies too.
Who can feel the aching?
No one else but you.
U V A U V B
You are a sick person, you will see.
You are 60 years old, double your age
destined by yourself to die young.
You are caught in this cage
Was it something you did? Was it something you said?
Guilt and disease they come in pairs, they multiply and spread.
Hours of sunbeams on a vampire’s skin,
calls for trouble and so it begins.
Sex partners without protection,
that calls for further inspection.
The years you smoked just to relax,
it was all for free while it lasted,
but when do you have to pay that motherfucking tax?
The toxins you inhaled while painting inside your little cavity,
will transform your inside into a dark masterpiece.
Imagine a medieval depiction of suffering,
the fresco flatness.
The doctor’s retrieval of information
is lacking highlights and gloss
and you, you lack information.
Explicit figuration covered in pacifying ornamentation.
It is like bearable suffering in flat form, on a flat screen, in a flat landscape.
Look at Pieter Bruegl closely,
Hieronymus Bosch as well,
Sinful humanity en ́masse,
somewhere between heaven and hell.
Dreadful cosmology or a hermetic spell,
a pattern that is orchestrated pretty damn well.
Like many malicious entities together can make a pretty composition
many round shadows on an ultrasound screen calls for suspicion.
Are you still wondering how to cope with an enclosed envelope?
Bloodtests testing you,
another funny dejavu,
and now you have to follow through.
Get in touch with the barbarian within,
release your fears,
accept the fact that you had more than enough
and now it ends in tears.
Generations of overconsumption
lead the mind to tricky assumptions.
Fatty, festive, overindulging, laughing, smoking peers,
it’s stored in your body as clutter and dirt
- all those careless years.
You are a cell without inhibitions.
You are the daughter of cell change traditions.
You know better than all the physicians,
why don’t they listen to all your suspicions?
You grind your teeth, you call out his name,
you count your birthmarks in fear.
You were born in this corrupted frame,
30 years old and no one to blame.
You are a teenage mutant dear.
Copyright ©Tanja Nis-Hansen 2020