Lit like a bitch

what you see
if you're perceptive
is a fake, invisible depression
like a bend or tear:
a healed infection.

what you hear
is the spiteful laugh of
every single cherished moment of triumph
as it upchucks your hopes.

the difference between
my inferences about your
sensory actions
and what I'm actually
doing is so different:
I truly are far from inert;
the damage has been building
and is now in motion and irreparable.

we'll need new chromosomes,
some favors, and some
dirty friendship to
reignite this bitch.