As Is

acrylic on canvas // 2018

I've swallowed the sun again, burned alive from the inside out, eviscerated, stomach acid boiling over, weakening the bone

When I said I wanted to be /soft/ is this what I meant?

I've forgotten the way my name falls off my own lips, each letter clings between my teeth, rubbing gums raw, fucking rotting, I've memorized the way the alphabet tastes backwards, upside down, turned around, yet I can never stomach the word 'sorry'

Apologies and heat don't mix well in the body, one will expel the other

And if the body is a home, mine hasn't felt right for months

I avoid looking at mirrors now.

I don't know her.

When she vomits the light it almost sounds like a name.

© 2023 by JACK BANKS PHOTOGRAPHY. Proudly created with

  • Instagram - White Circle