by Oisin Farriage Artyom Korshunov balance the image: strung out, haggard. latched in a gas station bathroom. the brutal master flesh at (house, not home) etched these yellow-purple glyphs in (skin, not bone). erosion in the low valley of your cheeks, eye to jaw. needle pierced points illumined under anti-intravenous beams, conceal where black tar permeates rhizomatous feeds; see ephemerides of childhood dreams slowly inching up your arm, infecting the brain, fleeting through