if we loved the way that we were told to –
following that film mirror perfectly
– you be strange enchanted, I, glowing naive,
cut the scenes with screams and yells
frustration exhaustion anger bitterness
all the days we can’t make eye contact.
would then that idol, effigy
the standard become the norm?
I really can’t be filled by the exhaustive unpredictability of everything
but I am addicted to the raw, undefinable nature of
my feet hanging off the ground and not knowing
and that not mattering.
here everyone says why?
because they believe that they know
and think that they understand all the silly little bits of information
they force down their own throats
cutting open their lips
no matter what they say it will be tainted with blood.
(i, the little breezy bird, wonder at their deep-rooted legs)