The walls are painted with eyes
That travel my body and my footsteps,
And the light fixture above my head
As an ear tuned to the frequency of my mind. They act as a recorder, broadcasting my life
Onto movie screens where people throw popcorn down girls’ vnecks, shove tongues down throats like earthworms burrowing new tunnels and laugh at the tears sliding down the landscape of my cheeks.
When I close my eyes to sleep at night,
I see the audience sitting where my pupils should be,
suspended in suspense
Watching the commercials my world calls dreams.
They stare, eyes wide and glistening with desire
At the fantasies my imagination creates, but when reality flickers back on, they flop back into their seats,