I dreamt up resentments,
A cubling choking on milk.

I was the least deserving of constellation,
But you hung me from a hook in your night sky anyway
Your fingers stretched out
To cross the divide
Caressed my face with bated breath

I was surprised to be treated that way
I am peeling from myself
Becoming a series of dead ends taped together at the heart,
And that tape has been wet and dry and told it isn't tape

But oh what does the tape care anyway
You're right
It isn't tape anymore,
So I'll **** the judge
Light up another cigarette.

Your fingers are still touching my face