I am in the middle of a life,
Mine is at a standstill and I am hardened by the fact that there is nothing I can do about anything.
So hardened, so bitter about the collapse and the rebound and the push,
The constant ebb of the time against my skin,
Like succulent sand, slipping through my organs and out my eyes and into my inside.
What else is there?
Listen.
Listen for it in the crevices between empty words and emptier stares,
Because you can’t even begin to know me until you pluck out all of your eyelashes.
And I don’t care how hard you’re trying to make this okay, it won’t be, ever.
You have to understand that with me, they haven’t even started making the right spare parts, in fact,
They don’t even know where to begin.
Leave me here and I’ll hate you forever, just
Leave me here and you will be better.
Lick on the promise and slip on the never,
Sullen as silence and thin as a feather.
