Nothing can hurt me now.
Not people and their poky faces,
Not their happy places, -not their love-
Making-believing, bright eyes.
I’m unwilling. Hungering.
Something so cavernous that
My stomach falls in on itself,
Because I don’t have a frame.
I’m a see-through, – sleepwalker,
A paperback no(body) checks out.
for Real Toads