There's something in the corner coming to life.
There's something in the corner making
less fluid shapes than I am.
I knew the people in the corner were watching
the complication with melancholy carelessness.
I wanted to be seen.
They were meaningful, elegant, and classic.
They don't really care if I care,
but they know that I care.
This bunch of people in the corner carried it well.
Facing back there, I gaze into their post-modern land,
performing and knowing specifically that this is for you.
I pose seductively, a classic cover model.
I'm so ****** that there's no acknowledgement of my gaze.
Stop making me nauseous.
This is manipulation;
not relationship manipulation,
but it's purposely manipulative.
I just didn't do anything.