The middlest pip of the passion fruit
spits and rips its fleshy suit
exposing what it's supposed to hide.
What do I look like inside?
It's different shades of glue.
I swallow words like a bear eats fish
but I grant them all one dying wish.
They slot themselves inside my cheeks,
sometimes they stay there for weeks,
but then I wash them down.
I found some eyeballs on the beach,
I skimmed them infinitely.
I even put some in a pipe,
smoked them ‘til the dark got light.
When did you get that shape?
I count the hairs on my back
to try and help me to relax.
Sometimes I get as far as ten
but then I have to start again,
lest I forget.
I wonder what it's like to be frozen,
maybe I could just dip my toes in.
A lifetime comprised of a sequence
of partial experience
and I'll never quite add up.
Show me your whole computer-full,
well none of you are beautiful.
I'm reinforcing everyday
my desire to escape.
My coat gets stuck on your gate.
Trample down but trample light
and are you fighting the good fight.
Often I don't hear what people say
I pretend I do anyway
and I doubt I’m missing out.
Lay down on the hay
like newborn babies must be weighed,
there is a time and there's a place,
I don't know why I have to wait,
I’ve only got so long.
We can keep the empty skins,
dry them out and make new things,
a spoon to scatter salt on wounds,
a funnel to blow up balloons.
Does it make our lives complete?
You’d better believe it.
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