eyesofIris

I created you. 
I fed you spoonfuls of ink dipped in 
kerosene, 
I made you who you are. 
I covered you in soft metaphors, 
made sure the similes were tucked
tight under your chin. 

also, i don't think you should
leave me here in the icicle 
darkness, with a folding chair
and audience of imaginary friends 
as company. 

also, i'm not done telling you 
everything i have to say-

Pick a card, any card.
Cheap tricks are your 
specialty, anyway. 
I'd like a disappearing act-
maybe this time 
I'll know not to 
wait for you to come back. 
Maybe this time I 

It drives me crazy, getting old. 
Somewhere when we were young
dozens of memories were buried-
good sticking to them like flower nectar, 
bad insisting on staying 
like an unloved, unwelcome uncle-

Before the performance, the stage is set: a giant 6-foot tall ramp specifically designed for the group, with two wheelchairs stacked atop each other like orbs. The background is dark, with dozens of stars and comets.

I can tell I'm your 
new obsession. 
I can tell by the way
your eyes- green, yellow, 
waiting to catch your
prey-
glaze over my body. 
"Your hair,"
whispered near my ear. 
"It smells...