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concept: i die in my twenties and i’m left in a field and strangers come and leave flowers and sleep by my side and mutilate my corpse and carve poorly-drawn dicks and “__ was here” into my skin like they do on bathroom stalls and bus station walls. i don’t ever rot, my skin stays intact as if i were alive. my wounds heal themselves, i am a fresh corpse by the start of every month. i’m a local icon. middle-school kids whisper amongst themselves about the body in the field that doesn’t decompose, daring their friends to pay me a visit, poke me with a stick and run off screaming. the possessive types get real mad when they realize they can’t leave a permanent mark on me, start coming with their power drills and chainsaws. but i always regenerate. no damage lasts. i am the body in the field, i am here for everyone, and no one can claim me. 

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