She Asked Me What Happiness Is

I destroy every thing I've ever met
Thankfully I haven't met me yet
I suppose that when I do
I'll watch his skin turn blue
His eyes turn black
His patience exists
His emptiness filled

I suppose he'll smile as his teeth fall out
And then wouldn't complain
When those teeth aren't his anymore

but that's what I would do

Clarity of his existence lifted,
Fated peculiar plates shifted.

Between geared cracks crust,
I live as anthropomorphic dust.

I am the wrung out sponge
The carried-over lottery
The skipped gene
The desolate desired

The strung up vegetable
Dangled in front of anyone
Who could be convinced this noose
Is a necklace

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