I have a disco mirror ball instead of heart – on purpose once, because I wanted to be everyone and no one and all that, but now because the patterns it reflects whatever in are the one thing encoding what I’ve learned or am or know. It’s time now (it was time two years ago already), cause the need for blaring people, blaring artscenes, blaring movements, blaring ideaologies to endlessly come at you/to you has a hundred ways to make you suicidal and attrition is the surest, so it’s change or die. But I propose a bargain to whatever god will listen: pry the disco mirror ball out of my chest so that a normal heart can grow, then I will trade you both my eyes to have it back and place it where my eyes were.