Like the picture I wear over my face
Cocked grin frozen in its place
Tilt my head to one side
and ideas
slide
through my ear canal onto the floor.
Shake it, and you may find more
than a body or two
like a kiss at the zoo
or a blacklit vision
Baby, the light is getting so dim.
I’ve just been tumbling
toes to the ground
with a blue book clutched to my chest
where I write all my secrets
the only record that I exist
I wanted him to want it
But he never quite got it
And now I’ve gone and lost it

She calls me blue
They say I have a strange face
He tried to draw it and stacked the pictures by his bed
Efficacy
is paramount
to efficiency.
And efficiency is paramount
to saccharine
to poetic
stories
feelings
people
As each connection leaves I feel a relief
No longer tied to the sentimentality of childhood
And they may have guessed correctly
about my lack of remorse.