Under ones checkered blocked sweater vest
Under the single crinkle of the aligned button down, stainless, winter white, wrung out, weightless shirt
Under ones flesh filled with invisible scar, freckles flashing every so centimeter; no inch but centimeter
Under each dent on the side of ones mouth, that someone once called a dimple
Under ones sour dimple, an exuberant dimple
A claustrophobic you
You tick tock your loopy lens
You sit with some sort of thingamajigs by your side
You, with a perhaps outlandish antapology
You sit with your batta batta as it droops low beneath as it falls below your baby blue jeans
A claustrophobic you
Under ones droopy ears, a cantaloupe tune
Under ones choller, two more chins remain
Under goosebumps, an eloquent piece of smooth skin sticks
Under ones vein, vessels carrying blood to a single bleeding heart
Under ones heart, it beats and strikes and hurts
A fugacious you
You jumping red telatubbie
You whisk as if you are that yellow egg in that blender
You shift, shift a left, step back and three hops forward
You seem to seem social, as it’s simplicity
A fugacious you
Under ones beautiful fast that falls hefty, surplus intake
Under ones everything, after eating a eucalyptus leaf
Under ones chaos of entwined intestines
Under ones tender muscle, to tender to tussle
Under flowering blood streams
A boiling you
You sit straight silvering high
You domineering you
You are you
