i don’t chew my food enough
and I can’t fold things til they disappear
or explain myself
that’s right I’m no charmer
every type of brain is really a flower
every finger has a space between its neighbor
every maze is serious buttons
makes me indistinguishable
reminder of my ambition to sleep
to do me well, with frills to control
the moment of the crisis at it’s peak
the cup is a secret type of full
that renders itself ineffective until sips are taken
a roar in the end of the age of making
insert here, all told, sameness
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