Your hair your eyes.

Your hair, you eyes.
How you actualize.
Between your thighs.
Us smitten guys.
My wondering whys.
I can’t disguise-
my disgust.

At self, at you.
Everyone around.
What am I doing here.
Quit looking my way.
But don’t, don’t really.
Intentional, tension.
The drunk will throw himself down the stairs.

And you ask me.
You ask me:
“What are you thinking about”?
And I tell you, I answer.
I say:
“I’m thinking about how unimportant language is for me right now, I’m just picking up signals, looks and body language”.
Nothing you guys say to me tonight could be important.
No, not to me.
I didn’t come here for important things.
That’s not constructed, the boat floats and rocks gently.
You are gentle, simple creatures.
But we might be here for the most important thing of all.

So I look at you,
I’m not sure if I like your hair.
Your nose is a bit big,
you have big eyes and lovely skin.
Your form underneath.
Clothes, skin.
Your nails, and dainty wrists.
Long legs and angled arms.
Jutting elbows and elven ears.

And now I sit, just listening to tone.
watching faces. Patient and thinking.
Your words mean nothing to me.
But I am here, thankyou for that.
You’ve been more than considerate.

oh god nonsense.
Mirror, sheets.
Replicated bon chance
An end meets.

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