half way day

The taste of $2 shop lipstick reminds me of going out
Slight plasticky feel
Are you made of scales or not?
Like my lips bled a little
bleeding over the edges

Tastes like aloneness
It's all smeared off by the time we are together
Tastes like glitter scalps
also gone, by the time that crucial moment
finds its way in

Much too sticky for practicality
But do I care, really
I like the colour
I like the colour of you
especially

and the open air
slide open, plasticky door
open, Sky -- open
open gate
which serves no purpose anyway
Drunkards wander in off the street
asking for telephones
we don't have a telephone
that's the truth

I am half done
that's the truth
a truth I made up
but nonetheless, some truth
I am half way there
because when I see the end
I prefer to look at it, than go to it
I'd rather observe at a distance
It looks better, anyway.