And what if
I left you laying so, so still
without humor or emotion?
what if I
made the decision
to lift
up both your eyelids
and expose the world,
in several fragments,
to your head
to your insides?

and when humans think of themselves
they think of their brain
where all the thinking happens

because nothing
makes more sense
tonight
other than
breathing and beating
and the cleaver twitch of
fingertips
pressing down on my skin

And what if
the levers pull themselves,
the stitches and the switches
all change directions
and the cars on the road
unmake themselves
while you
are holding the steering wheel
that guides your future?