Cycle

Swirling my finger in the chest hair of the American dream

Swirling my finger in the soft serve idea of you

Swirling hair down the drain

Swirling my fingers in my own gummy throat, biting my knuckles

Swirling the slosh down the toilet

A dizzy sort of shame

Aided by relief

And when I stand up everying

Before my eyes starts-

Swirling

And when the room finally stands still

And the particles can materialize once again

with a static fizzle, I see that

there was no one to watch

So I take my hand, and

Hair’ round my finger

I just start

Twirling instead