the machines are making all the noise.
the mustard sky keeps changing it's mind .
for over and over it went,
it went into ragtime.
these tics are a dance-off on my cheekbones.
regret like a loosening jawline.
wake up senorita
you are hook line and mission impossible.
keep telling me things.
a need to know is burgeoning
when so recently i knew everything
and now such nothing.
i think about this for five clicks
from the kitchen. no more thinking.
let's know nothing.