There is subjectivity in the way we pronounce things,

in the past tense my mouth was on fire, dripping.

Thick plastic bags I flip through the props of an optometrist.

Today I am no more, there is no way out of this.

 

In the past tense my mouth was on fire,

My lips pierced in the middle looking down a reflective surface.

Today I am no more, there is no way out of this,

I my eyes on the sun that used to exist.

 

My lips pierced in the middle looking down a reflective surface,

They bursted like butterflies to the wind blowing.

I my eyes on the sun that used to exist.

Under the stars soft reviving my eyes were stark naked.

 

They bursted like butterflies to the wind blowing,

Thick plastic bags I flip through the props of an optometrist.

Under the stars soft reviving my eyes were stark naked,

Eyes bad and bubbly looking down my dreams a reflective surface.