against reality

expectations are a drumming

     off-white on the in-progress

canvas of reliability.

      in-progress

for a me

   and a you.

        and a you unto

                a me.

because a we only exist

             as the

     projections a we want each other              to be.

a we is a you and a me,

           opposing.

projections and inadequacies

           are besties.

     they hold hands while singing in the

        tinted off-white.

not there, yet occupying

     the splintering space

             of a beating

       heart

    and a clapping

  brain.

    (because it enjoys the show).

fuck with a

                   your.

     or

a myself.

          more than anybody else.

because veiny off-whites and

        expectations

   excrete from

your cells.

      skin, brain,

dick, clit—-

         cells.

                 take me home,

                                already.

the home i expected from

                              a you.

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