pheromones are mixing


i am drawn to smell. the primal, the desires we hide, the habits we wish we could resist, things we shouldn't move towards. things that show during a breaking point, things that attract and repel

and as a sculptor i like the thought that my wearable practice could be reduced to an oil slick on someone's neck

rotting in the refrigerator but we open to smell anyway. and again. and maybe once more

my body is imperfect. i eat aromatic things, and my sweat tells the story. i don't go to the gym anymore, i sweat outside like an animal running instead of lashed to a machine. but i want my body to act like a machine. i want to push it, but then i don't want to give into the ideal, pushing my body to its breaking point because i know that i will want more, and then i will attract. i will attract the wandering eyes of past lovers and other people's lovers, the male gaze, and my own mirror stage. and i don't want to attract because i am mortal. i will age and sag and fill and empty; my life is a blade of grass. so i am torn between pushing and fading

when i was a girl my aunt told me if you were uncomfortable with bodily functions, you would be a terrible lover. and my grandmother told me it was good i had lost weight when i was 10

he didn't want a fat wife. are you having seconds? you weighed less when you got home than you do now. you've lost weight. you look good. i mean, you looked good before

smells at the gym where pheromones are mixing and the stench of attraction and lure of chemical makeup confuse the nose and the mind and the brain. and outside people are running with colognes that poison my air

my muscle memory kicks in and my arms take shape, and my stomach remembers what it was like to be flat. and i can see my hipbone again

a florist is taught to never use fragrant flowers in table centerpieces because they remove one's ability to taste

i can taste mildew or garbage. in haiti there were pigs crawling on the dump heaps and i gagged from the stench of raw sewage and trash and fecal matter and humans and dirt. it cooked in the sun and baked in the air. we brought filth to that place

animal secretions and glands and whale vomit attract. why then am i running on this road? why am i staring at these flabby arms and wishing they were like hers?

i can walk by a candle store in the mall and nearly vomit but i cannot sense enough salt to taste. i eat a little too much of each thing, and i allow the eating habits of others to shape me, so as to attract or not attract but i attract different eyes given my different shape. is it form or scent that ultimately brings us to each other?

and if form, how do i create that form with my hands instead of with my eating or running? and if with running, i collect the scent to attract someone to the object i've now created with my hands. can i draw out your memory of the tuft of air that emitted from that old sofa that you napped on in the cellar when it was too hot to sleep upstairs? can i bring those things to mind with my hands, with a collection of oil and leather and silk, sweat and salt?

trees emit a pheromone when there is a forest fire. they sound the alarm and suck up as much water as possible so that the fire might pass them by. before harvesting flowers this same pheromone is sent out over the greenhouse and they are slaughtered after taking their last natural drink



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