tyndall, my dear tyndall in the morning
why don't you tell me
how blurriness is the majesty
here
when i put my glasses on
and sip the liquid i cannot tell what it is
it becomes foggy
why don't you tell me
how i wish i were a forest fairy
that misty eyes are not what the lake tells
that it is what the lake shows
behind your clothes
there is no skin
you have no flesh
crushed skeleton
yellow as pollen
they named you tyndall with a reason
why don't you tell me
how all of these time i prayed to ra
diana kept giggling and put all my cries
under the label 'noises'
i thought i could trust her
my mother once said so
that she was my other
why don't you tell me
how the striped pants on the runways
are now out of date
how flower prints on the blowing skirts
of ladies who promise you
to gather you to their breast
do not wither
why don't you tell me
i do not have to water
them
don't you see the flow
of liquid i cannot tell what it is
keeps running and running out
i will soon be dry
is it a cactus i see -- i can't even
there's none
you don't have to tell me