Dream Inside, Rebecca

I am in your halls of residence, balls of execution,
lots of execution.
I am the chewing gum whose nails scrape along wood,
before thumping on blue jeans and red glitter eyelids.
You will come to me when you are isolated and shut,
lost out in, out on, breathe in these dated pages -
Is she Japanese?
All of my clothes are hanging out for you to paw, nuzzle,
and saliva falls onto silk, walls empty and curved, circles white circles
beautiful empathy and an empty tramp.
Awright darlin' :
he won't eat meat, he only sits there Tuesdays, night time, stroking the night
spreading the cooking oil because butter has run out.
I left the Japanese girl early. She's still there. I keep her. She shouts mute.
I watch her swirls as she stares at my laundry and
together we can while away hours just-
empty bubbles pushing hard against white, white, white is unclean,
so unclean I can feel my bones.
I am in your stadium, afraid of him,
you didn't know about the man, but he knew about you-
oh yes and the tattoo, and another girl with a gun shoots you down.
He's too old, his eyes display no record of an infant- his head is on my knees-
he can't understand washing machines, lip sync, apologies- his head is on the block.
he won't allow, permit, see, feel me or anyone else - his head is in a sports car-
he reaches into the void and nobody notices - his head is in a mausoleum.