you can’t just
play me out until I’m dizzy
and lying on the ground like a lost infant.
you can’t make my words
at once crash off the shelves,
my tongue will drop down my pipe.

perhaps I’ll close my eyes
once open, I am masked.
masked until I am as thick as my skin
punching through the layers inside
as my soul pushes them back.
so that they are well hidden from your luring voice,
like these marks stained on this paper.