Glassjaw

Give me back my pictures of me.
Me, you, and him that makes three.
It figures the wheezing will measure your rate of depress
and I hope that you know.
Like a bitch in heat I hope she know.
So put another penny in and turn the crank until the frames
cease to move and the movie turns into a photo,
a photo the size of a kiss I hope she knows.
Staring at a Parisian sex flick where the characters don't meet,
the characters don't speak, and the characters are
like mirrors facing mirrors:
space always expanding.
So put another coin in and turn the crank until the frames
cease to move and the movie turns into a photo,
a photo the size of my fist I hope she knows.
A hiccup in paradise
I keep you jealously to myself,