Sabyasachi Roy
DEAD CODE: A REWRITING OF FLESH
I trace the scar’s neon script—
my palm reads glitched algorithms of skin.
Each ridge a broken subroutine,
a pulse that hacks the night.
Under ultraviolet memory,
I debug the hollow between ribs:
skeletal syntax trembling
with unsent messages.
Flesh rewrites itself in secret,
a living cipher that bleeds
when I crack its code.
End of line.
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