In my brain's eye, I see a man.
He has rosy eyes
and a mouth with the red paper curves
of a candy heart.
He carries flowers
pulled up by the roots
in his one hand;
A box of cobwebs
in his other.
His body opens like a dirty closet
gladly revealing the skeleton
inside.
I see through to his heart,
a simple, tangled room of so-called
feelings
which pumps me like thick red mud
And I notice, suddenly
he is missing not one rib
but two
three
four
I cannot count
how many girls, like me, he has tamed
and broken
into women.
This is NOT what I want.
I close him up, smile,
Walk away shaking my head.
I don't want your cobwebs.
I don't want your candied nothings.
I am not just a body part
And your rosy snake-eyes
Can't make me want to be one.
