The Jar Half Open

Carve the hole. Deep enough. A renaissance of touch. In practical liaisons. Remember. Forget. I don't care who you are after we're over. It's only circumstance. The dollhouse Trying so hard to look like the real thing.

I don't care who I was then. Or who I'll be after. I am. Now. Whatever this might be. Candy house in the woods. Falling down. The abandoned misled by the sweet.

Blood like umbrellas. When it's not raining Men like elevators. Navigating skyscrapers of skin. I lose them, in the afterward. The pale telepathy of the testosterone. Wanting so much. And so little.

Every thing's the same.

Nothing is.

Find the hole. Lie to it.