Perfect Poltergeist

A short introduction to Perfect Poltergeist, a zine on our body's relation to others, how it loves and permeates membranes, and how flesh persists through total destruction: The renaissance of the body post-birth, separate from the maternal gaze is the foundation of Perfect Poltergeist . The non-stagnant body experiences constant internal and external genesis and a perpetual process of becoming and vanishing. You are born with a body but only your mother knows, only your mother knows that you have a heart, flesh and bones before you even knew you had them, perhaps this is why you resent her, because she knows something not even you do, and why she loves you in a way unlike anyone will ever love you, perhaps more cruel and sickly, perhaps this is why you never learn her love, and her gaze. You have to find your own body. The knowledge of your body is not imparted onto you, it is your duty to discover every day, in the mirror, willing yourself through air as a hollow projection, from image to skin, skin with muscle, fat, veins, and blood and tendons, and bones, and organs, this will take the majority of your life, -with help from others, or just practice. We will have built a whole body, one fully grounded to the earth, moving by weight, knowing you can be desired, and wanted, for the flesh you can hold and can picture being held. Then just when you are fullest, at your most whole, you’ll fall in love, and you’ll find your body crowded to do so, and so violently, you create a fissure, making a bed for the ones you love, gapping holes within the space you spent all this time filling up, so you can welcome in new life, and some may come in. If the endeavour is successful, you will become more whole than you ever were, grow and flourish to great heights, inversely, if the bed you made is left vacant, the space will fester, and become a wound. This wound will grow, the edge widened, bloodied, reaching to the very outline of your body, until all that’s left is a vacuous hole, returning you to hollow space once more. This is a repeating process, repeated collapse and slow rebirth of the flesh.

A flawed apparatus for love: this membrane is impermeable, what governs a body that ruptures? The visceral and violent act of tearing yourself open for others to be welcomed in is a critical flaw of the body’s construction, built under colonial and atomizing systems, each and every body comes with an impermeable membrane which shields it from the love of others, so instead of receiving love through painless absorption, we make a wound, just to make pathways. These wounds are pathways to welcome love into our nucleus but making our thick and heavy bodies easy to love is no minor labour. Perhaps the only reason we are capable of surviving our complete corporeal annihilation through every and each heartbreak, is that each wound we make is just a scab picked upon an ancestral mound of flesh.