Babyliss In Acid
You are a hole in my head;
when I look inside, I see a dentist's drill
grinding sweetly against my hippocampus
and it must have hit a tear duct by accident
because when I wake, it has been raining.
I douse myself in Argan oil and
set myself on fire with my hair straightener
(ordinal, interval). Never again will I sleep;
That night I dream of
at last! A letter from you
though when I wake, I do not check the post.
I switch on the oven, and logic
swallows the half-consciousness of your handwriting.
Now I rise from my reverie; it is babyhood
and it is morning and I
sweat under the covers,
learning everything in five minutes,
Orlando, Leon, Halleluiah, and
people looking like other people,
a man that used to be handsome,
In the veins of a red-eyed pensioner he
drags me from my bed in upside-down buses
and the screaming blue walls of the DVLA office;
I fall cyclical into double brackets as I am
reaching out for a glass of water
and I am forever
Brushing my hair in the face of death;
I sit down in the shower and
wonder if it will get infected
Copyright © Blameless Vestal | Year Posted 2021
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