2026-09-01
In the train, on my way to school,
everyone has this curve their neck.
It’s a slide from which presence is sliding down,
right into their buttcracks.
Am I in the matrix?
Or am I imagining you’re not actually here?
Look at all these faces around.
It’s like we’re in an art gallery.
Sir, I’m fascinated by the shape of your nose!
Lately I’ve been studying those.
Still you don’t seem to notice.
My attempt to make eye contact.
I know for a fact that it’s not my fault.
But you look down as if I’m not even here.
The person whom you’re sharing your personal space with,
for at least the next 40 minutes,
could be a killer.
And you wouldn’t know,
because you didn’t look me in the eyes.
Oh wait,
I now see who is actually killing you.
It wasn’t me all along.
It was that person profiting of your insecurities,
and you let it happen by looking at her,
on your phone.