Love Poem to a Bipolar Self

I am fixed to this spot, magnifying glass in hand. I have taken inventory of myself and now point the lens to the center of my chest, a slight angle toward the sun. I hold it long enough; a small dot forms, an irritation growing. It feels particular and significant until my eyes relax and the dot bleeds into the reds of my skin.

self-induced

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an ignition of colors. a body burning. a lost pin and sodium bicarbonate bath.