the real you

you browse through my being
with fluttering eyelash-
squinting at the unpleasantries and
tugging at your brows with nervous thumbs.
i wonder-
will you know me any better by it. you
try and suck out the last drop of liquid life from 
your porous daydreams
sipping from the warm marrow of old bath water. i 
watch you take another big gulp of nothing from the precious air. i
see you take your place in the line
among the spaghettified limbs and elongated fingers of 
Dalí-inspired creatures that walk idly on the flat- smoothed out places of the world 
that stretch 
far and wide like some never-ending ungodly plane. you
scallop out pieces of your knowing just to make sense out of this happening. you
forget to receive beauty in all your eyes devour-
and in all your heart can crave.
the stiletto legged spiders cross paths like stilted walkers, wishing they were smaller
and you
will know nothing of them but will speak as if you've known them. i
can tell 
you've never known them. i
can tell
. you
extend your limbs, hands open 
as wide as the minds of poets, you fancy your fingers as feathers, 
and your outstretched arms as wings. i
know your bones must be hollow because
i've never heard such terrible sounds from them knocking together-
drumming out strum-songs because no strings could be used to make noise
in this place 
you are lonely-
feeling as empty as freshly blown glass
and with
pins sticking out of my fingertips
i cannot drum along
to your sound,
the crackling scratch of a vinyl record as
a cat claws at the beige carpet and 
catches like Velcro loops. i
know i've
put less thought into greater things
and 
you
hold me
for only one second and 
you are the grass stain on my knees,
the flecks of dried paint in my black eyebrows,
and


infinitesimally small particle-sized portions of forever
bouncing around in the dark parts of your irises 
like over-exited electrons colliding in a 
cloud 
of everyday 
dust
exiled into the far corners of 
heaven 


you hold your hand out like a katana and i 
slice 
back 
everything i might of known about you before
that lash-fall instant 
in which
you
smiled