why doesn't the wind from the swings give enough momentum for us to pick up our feet or
teach us the difference between anger and fear?

my face is always in the dirt, like a colorblind politician or like some self-loathing gardener with no sun-screen.  i bleed daily to ensure i will not bite off more than i can stuff into my pockets while brothers and sisters can't make eye contact and the astrophysicists are left to the shelters.

my eyeballs have poured out onto the cutting board like broken faucets and we rubberneck but
who's actually here to see the show?