You make me feel like there are cameras in my home.
One blue-eye open. Analysis of my unsteady hand
and I remember you drained like a balloon.
O, can you think of a time when you
weren’t seeking perfection in women and still required
so little from yourself. Again, I want to
shrink away from your monocle (very
Mr. Peanut.) Stop looking at me, I was always
the sideshow to your bombed circus.