In your eyes I'm scorched under the sun
the magnifying glass widens your blue eye--

I have loved it,
and you have loved to judge,

I burn under your scrutiny
I'm insect small.

somewhere the cat curls its tail,
and the books look so old.

Compose, wave your arms at the streams of the orchestra sounds-
sway, lead, be lead, 
swoon yourself at the glorious sound 

Awaken to the sudden silence, the loss of a reverie
There are no spotlights here,
there is no audience, no members,
no instruments. 

The empty chairs sit in the dark, 
as your gaze empties. 
Stand, still, stare.

I think I found the answer when I swung my head back and looked at the ceiling,
******* drunk, and no one to text.

it could've been me in your smoke,

lost,
somewhere in the baby cries in your home.

I see her and I see me,

could have laid down the necklace my aunt gave me,
could have taken the ****

could have, in the smoke and in the clouds,
cried in your home.

At the bottom of the bottle
my own warped face-- the glass,
eyes that reflect 2014 for what it was

the bottle-neck becoming mine 

At the bottom of the barrel
I find words for poetry, words for me. 

At the bottom of it all I can see.