I walk willingly into the screen stretched between the trees, to face and taste the pain tainting trunks with tar, biting buds unbloomed. Gnarled strands embrace me, slick my skin with sweat. Gauze chokes me. The darkness in the trees captures me like film, my skin etched white against his surface. I turn and tangle, dance suspended— we both hang— his ashen body inverse above me, his face in mine. I feel the sick-sweet stench, and want to taste him, to inhale him like smoke until my lungs go numb and bleed. I want to engulf this tumor, hide him in my womb. I stretch, and spread, and split from my center to swaddle him in membranes, slake his hunger, ache his name.

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ChaoSpirals