Written by Rachel Gorman

One needs the constant comfort of touch, desperately seeking any kind of contact flesh on flesh
One would rather die than be touched and the displeasure crawls under your skin in waves at the thought of another person’s skin / flesh / bone to sinew to muscle to skin on skin on sweat droplets on you transfer to me
                                                                            there is no middle ground

feel these things simultaneously / endlessly
seek out the touch of strangers
buy coffee just to touch fingertips with the cute barista
put up with people you can’t stand soyou pretend their face is anyone else’s when you hold their hand
you need to find
                                                         who are okay with platonic physical contact
you need to find