I. DECIBEL SKIN
Eyes will mourn: the teacher’s preachings of deceivings
have earnest ways to feel deeper than skin.
But here, amid celebration, it’s the past on centre stage
that bleeds for decades to come,
One to take the feeling of misconception as understanding
like a believer to succumb, all lone Venus fly traps.
Now who has painted themselves?
You fade somewhere in the isolation of a decimal.
My eardrums explode ahead of time, conceived yet
never planned to shatter somewhere near your isolation.
This is where we pretend to die, a decibel
