I hope I choke
on dried out ramblings,
(like thorned berries) and
(like slick cherries)
when the light shines,
rips my eyes open,
forcing my pupils to skip across
heads bobbing in a sea of
ready for snap judgements
that define who they are,
I’m shoving my mind
up on to this stage,
to test how well the screws work
because this machine
is thirsty for oil,
-in the end they’re all
I want eyes to squint.
Eyebrows stitched together by
Confusion – even better,
What will I do then?
There’s nothing else, but to
I think that’s where
the cork pops
with an unexpected clack.
And faces become as insignificant
as the empty water jar on the table,
as a present received from a far away relative claiming to know you till the smallest speck.
They think they can count every freckle on your left cheek-
Everyone claims they can, that they know;
that they know it all just by the way my mouth stays agape
how I stand up straight
how I flinch
switch words in between syllables,
number of tickles it takes for me to gasp.
And they’ll wrap it all up with a ribbon,
label it your name.
That’s you, they will say
Don’t be too much, they will say.
And often it gets to me
my tongue ties itself into knots that
Clog the gap between my two front teeth
so I sleep during the day
I forget faces are just faces.
Minds that run on people
are flies congregating around cows’ tails
As long as I don’t step too close,
this machine won’t need to test its clogs
Or choke on smog