Tangled

There’s something horrible about the tangles. Like- everyone can eat the curly strands. But no one knows what it costs. When I had more than two eyes. And the laundry got put away every day. I could still laugh like that. The face tangles up when you squint. A burning, quick idea. When you eat more than one burger in a day. And the deadly mustard takes you. Face tangles. Eyes, and ears, and who else is here? He looked at me as if there was nothing. Curly, destructive, wailing facial features. And the ocean. Pulled me away again. There’s something horrible about the tangles. Flailing arms and waiting on the coast line. There’s nothing like having eyes. Which get scribbled on every time.