it is painfully obvious
that all of your cells are in a traffic jam
a nasal congestion
like a face.

a congested face.

A face with a pillow on top.

nothing jested about
the innocuous
mucous membrane.

And, honestly,
because my default is lying (to that minstrel the Greeks named),
I have no stamina to exhaust this metaphor.
I’ll leave it complacent
bobbing on moistened grass
like a red deflating balloon
tied to a picnic table.

Cus that’s where I want to be
not full not empty not excited

but emptying,

like a hiss in the night.


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