it all happens so fast
you almost look a little blue, baby
“here’s where the language barrier gets us”
you laugh now, but as you say that
your eyes are glued to the ground

when does every lovely thing break into shards?
always looking for the beginning of the end
this isn’t the way. hammer in your hand—
tear it all down, i say.
i’m done with this house of mirrors.

don't you almost feel a bit
like the guy who discovered fire?
there’s poetry before you fall asleep next to him
and there’s poetry after it.
the latter which is all worthless, of course.

turns out it’s rather comforting
to look in the mirror and see someone
other than yourself.
to see you, darling boy.

to see you.