She still falls quickly and deeply,
over and over,
Her loves gopher holes like cults.
He names the same plans differently,
over and over,
Expecting different results.
He still masks his rage with the
thinnest disguises,
Which flow down to his stomach, where
he feels them.
She still masks her strangeness with
the average neurosies,
Both hidden 'til my influence reveals
them.
They still fill the same booth with the
same seats,
Fill the table with the same jokes and
the same eats.
We still have the same chats about
different things,
When both of us talk and neither's
listening.
Nothing in the world ever changes,
Except my angles, my line of sight.
Nothing in the world ever changes.
I just leave.
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