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Tuesday, November 22, 2011

to this night

look through the hole in your head,
see the clouds there.
do you wonder what a thunderstorm feels like
--to be tossed about in
the electric tumult.

walk home
singing
too-loo-rye-aye
come on eileen
too-loo-rye-aye.


I am wrapped up in chords
my chargers wrapped around my arms
my eyes bloodshot staring at a screen
completely
at the mercy
of these machines
that might show your name
how do i say anything
at this juncture
the crux of our lives
doesn't hinge on this
cage the elephant
can say it for me
'thank you
happy birthday'
whatever, hormones
today I will feel the least feminine/
the most attractive
for the whole month combined
regardless of anything biological and
cut sleeves off t-shirts and wear
baggy jeans and eyeliner and this
asexual haircut
which makes me feel
so alien--
androgynous and confusing
to everyone
but itself