Let's rope in and be digested—
(What are you like inside?)
It will be
A room full of faces,
Some with eyes still smiling,
Covering every wall with gazes,
Not noticing as I wade by—
Oh greet me with folded arms
Like a malcontent genie
Still mulling where I can see
Your fingers touching blue,
Scraping the past-all,
Reviewing
The sequence of my distemper,
Your disquiet,
Your upset
Appetite.
