OPEN-BRAIN SURGERY

looking in the mirror while depressed

i was willing to ignore it—

the bending trees & the black river you kept all for

yourself in the backyard, with all the baby

minnows and the fake, dying flowers wasting away in cracked silver flower pots; the cider spilled and sticky on bicycle seats and the posters with tack marks piercing though them, there's a hole going through michael jackson's eye —even the moon, sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool, bobbing her head up

& down

i was willing to

pluck the

eyeballs that see ugly out of my head and

keep them away, just for

your sake, just to

save you from the embarrassment that is

spinning around in you're own filth, only

is it filth when you like it? if you like

being friends with

the dirt and the things

it spits out and the centuries of

carcasses its swallow in its

warm brown mouth

(there are bones stuck in dirt-made teeth hanging on by tethered sinew) maybe it's

better for your head, sitting in the darkness

burning in the syrupy heat of afternoon of early morning maybe the

stars God plastered with angel glue against the sky will

make you feel

better. each twinkle a

flashlight down the dim hallway winding

around in circles in your

brain.