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Mess Measured - De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
cbertsch
cbertsch
Mess Measured
Yesterday I drew a line on my thigh, permanent
marker, as if I were making sure not to remove
the wrong part. The picture of a surgeon, bent
on perfection, with a little too much to prove.

"The body has a hard time when it's like
this. The weather won't hold still." I hear
your longing. I keep checking the temperature
myself. Not that it helps. You can't make

words fit the world. It's why we need art,
to let out the seams, give us room to move.
Psychology is a bitch. Some things are there;
some aren't. We can't know what we're leant

and what we get to keep. It's time to take
stock. Every decision cuts deep. Read Sartre.

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