all the rejected things drift toward cyberia
the internet carries them here
like a black river
a surplus among surpluses
a wound among wounds
someone is typing
someone has always been typing
their fingers pass through me
like someone touching my face in the dark
the archives do not sleep
the archives sweat beneath blue light
under the weight of abandoned confessions
all the usernames remain
their little skeletons
their little wet halos
their cached faces
their secret embarrassments
the comments breed
under the skin of the website
white larvae
feeding on the sweet rot of language
i refresh
the wound remains open
the wound acquires visitors
someone leaves
someone dies
someone changes their name
and returns brighter
more ghostly than before
i place another text
inside the machine
it disappears immediately
years later
someone touches it
with their strange living hands
and my old cyber-residue
smears onto their fingertips
the screen glows
the screen perspires
the screen opens its mouth
wider
and wider
and wider
i remain lodged in its throat
for years
for decades
a bright little obstruction
under the blue light
of cyberia
Greta Kaluževičiūtė is a Lithuanian writer. Her prose — published under her own name and multiple pseudonyms — has appeared in 3:AM Magazine, Do Not Submit, Expat Press, Hobart Pulp, Plague Circus Press, and various obscure corners of the internet. She is also a psychoanalytic researcher and holds a PhD in Psychoanalytic Studies from the University of Essex, UK. In addition to her writing and research, she is the author of eskimo kisses, an ongoing photography project examining intimacy through uncanny encounters.
