I’ll take the best of your bad moods and dress them up to make a better you, ’cause all the company calls amount to one paycheck. I’d squeeze a heart through my fingertips but I type too slow to make expressions stick. And it’s like TV with a microchip.
Set your sights to sink the partyline, ’cause it’s so tired. Set your sights! Destroy this mock-shrine, ’cause it’s so tired.
Let’s cut our losses at both ends and aim your car away from all our friends, leaving the dishes stacked in the sink.
I’d keep a distance ’cause the complications cloud it all, and mail a postcard sending greetings from the Eastern Bloc. Synapse to synapse: possibilities will thin or fade. Your wedding figurines: I’d melt so I could drink them in.