Stars In Your Eyes

On this couch we vanished in dreams of forced labor,
spasmed with panic in PVC boxes,
rode on the backs of characters and actors
out of tiny hatches in the globes of eyes of others.

Blast off to space in a baby-shaped spacecraft,
back to the nurseries, interstellar dust:
consolation prizes for ruining ourselves,
muffled words piddling fake & lipid worlds.

Sometimes I think of what I never want to be
and a lukewarm ooze leaks in my empty mouth. The brain juice hardens
into opaque wax. One of your eyes is a mobile of stars.
One of your eyes is a hole filled with eye.