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The Empty Mirror

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Force-fed
Pleasant
Witness the people who ill bred
Exhausted

Forthwith
Hold it
Fold your palms
You're listing numbers
I'm finding sums
We add up to no one

Chair lifts
Braces
Rattle to pieces before it

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Hold it
Fold your mind
It's not the weather
It's all the time

Forthwith
Hold it
Fold your tongue
If nothing doing
Then nothing done
I'm hearing my own voice
You're missing the whole point
Exhausted
We've lost it.
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