head dialogue, ghost-written on a bathroom stall

it is installing. i am in (stalling)
written on the stall
it came while squinting at the audible flickering of fluorescence
it came while counting the cracks in the tile
then following the branched dissections
seeing them as maps of where to go
it came after hearing her spank her child in the stall next to mine and how it triggered that memory of when you told me the first time you could recollect your fetish for feet–-when he spanked you for speaking during mass, right there, bent over a statue with nothing to look at but the virgin’s feet. white. smooth. delicate and detailed. the purest rock. HARD. at the exact moment of pain you recognized pleasure. and now every time i see you looking down i think to myself, ‘but my face is right here.’
it came while twirling my hair as the inner made outer trickle met with water. i hate when it rains and my hair springs these curls. i feel like a poodle. except i don’t lift my leg…
in head, it read something like this:
One: mathemantics- as a title (?)
Two: the undernote: semen, math, and antics
Three: OR seamen- i haven’t decided
see man tic
Four: i have been sketching some thoughts….
Five: an illogical arrangement ad infinitum de steorra
Six: enter sex. of COURSE
Seven: will it really not have an end?
Eight: lay down straight
Nine: let’s just pretend all is fine
Ten: and again
counting is beginning. counting is ending.
i flush
in the mirror, flushed
i wash my hands
and walk away

Author: Ranessa Allen

Ranessa is into texture, tetris, smell y memoria. practices palabracadabra to a hybrid degree & suffers from acute aural fixation, non-freudal. girl boys & boy girls are kin. she was named after the Renaissance (rebirth) when her mother's belly met with the hand of a fortune teller who forecast she would give birth to herself, recycled. she thought 'Ranessa' sounded close enough. sentimental, puro pisces. she takes life medium rare.