Thou Art the King of Glory

You heard me.

To expose is to release and relinquish control over image. To expose is to uncover under finely furnished drywall a layer of 20-year-old insulation no longer keeping the relatives comfortably warm over Christmas. Exposure is expanding into other mediums of perception, multiplied moments of encounter with a freshly stripped piece of innocence and unassuming apathy. Like a cracked egg, one’s insides leak like liquid into the minds of others, for them to now scramble or poach to their liking. That might just make my blood boil (hard boil)(nope).

Composure is key. Composure relays to the eyes that the eyed is ignorant of (or maybe even superior to) their constructed reconstructions of one’s image. The audacity of some people, to credit their perception with the perfected accuracy of the eye. If eyes could truly see. Better yet, if eyes could perceive, like a sheet drying in the sun sketched in shadows from the figure on the other side. She’s the one with the eyes, though quite possibly a sunburn as well. How will you reconstruct the shadow on the cloth? Then again, ask the cloth.

Decomposer might be an exaggeration, though it feels easy to say. To see all the parts feels too often like less than the whole, like if some part were still under the surface one might still maintain a level of mystery too vague to categorize. Potential is a safeguard against reality, sometimes. Will the product not deliver? Can the machine maintain the strain? Whoops, looks like they forgot a screw. Its scary. Its dark sometimes.

But it can also heal (& will, in time).