Fabricated masses

by ale

I traced the outlines of your face
and recorded the words you said
but the edges were never aligned
and the alphabets all twisted.
I shaded your brown-nose eyes
and held your cottony skin
but I swear upon each stroke
an odd tone of bole sufficed
along the radial curves of your eyes
and scales grew unseen
mapping the lies on your skin.

You perpetually play with shades
and fill my head with games.
Silently I hold on to your sharpening
skin, feeling your words sting
my palms, and your iris
dancing to the brown light of your face.

Hard as you try
to resonate with the earth
your mimetism will not drive
delirious and delusion
only dolour and desolation.