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Dear viewer like a hologram projected
by eyes fugitive from identikits
in a Soho peepshow I turn silence
into idle masturbation
dumb, boxed and dismembered
finish when time's up slots shut
the machine I'm inside
stops, I'm eyeless
reclothing, undefined a suspended sentence.
The limbs you don't see
have no soul.
Confession a box
where God won't show his eyes
after seeing my act
he takes me like a passport photo
four machined faces say I'm still alive.
Everything that isn't dead
is unholy.
I re-enact this ritual audiences circumstantial
flesh perfect on a flat screen
archive snapshots
in a shoebox darkroom a rolling film
I never play back
red light would destroy it.
The guilty party
behind one-way glass picks his teeth
my scratch on his cheek watching himself
in the righteous pane
the witness picks him the only one smiling
from a Soho peepshow
I'm posting you this letter
inside a letterbox