Day eighteen!  Really rough draft of a poem I want to edit, haven't had a lot of time again but wanted to get some ideas down.

Body: Missing

She's lost her body sometime
over the last couple of years.
She's not exactly sure when; it
edged away gradually, leaving
a doppelgänger in its place.
She'd like it back, if found.

It was always elusive, its
dualist mind freed from flesh
through ascetic detachment.
She miss the paradox she
never knew existed; floating
numbness cut by sharp awareness.
Noises jolted her heart in a
prison of ribs framed by
coat hanger collar bones;
hyperaware, she slept
as if on a cliff top.

This new body seems a lot more
forceful than she's used to; she's
conscious of it pressing against
her clothes, reflecting in windows.
It's much more muchier,
to use Alice's terminology,
ever-present, material, materialist,
grounding perceptions with desire,
strange sensations, emotional nausea.

So she runs through the vertigo,
running as if to find her old body
but now she can hardly picture it.
She runs to feel free, to escape
herself, her new self, create
new paradoxes.
She's both detached and physical,
mind lost in movement.
Egoless and free,
she keeps running.