By Tyler Majer

A severed head frozen in the deep freezer
Covered in sticky notes
The jotted lines of a pen
What they say
You cannot read

Your hand trembles
“I need indiscretion
I need resurrection
To come again
When I’ve come and gone”

Your nose running
Sticky water
An ocean flows
The webs

You float
Just like your words did once
All the weight
Adorned along your bubble-wrapped spine

Common insurrection
Upon a video frame
The code reads ‘anarchy’
But you cannot pull yourself
From beneath the plaster

The sand from a thousand isles
Close gently
As you place your fingertips
Upon them
They all look like you

Numbers in place of words
5 2 9 0 8 5 4
What you fear the most
Not what you can say
But what you can’t