“Sometimes my stuff gives aperture as a leakage another good name.

Or. An identity. Often, I am not looking in a straightforward way at my subject’s eyes.

Eyes insinuate a relationship. Relationships will hurt you.

If I am using x-rayy technology, I am the one who manages where the eyes glaze, and as an x-rayy extravagance, the eyes freeze white as concrete slipped into the sun. I remove humanity in the x-rayy so I might slip myself behind those eyes where both our second selves live like all the stuff we arrived at the orphanage with in a paper grocery bag. I remove humanity from what is disgust. You, too, can slip into the sun. Only a fool would look up. Disgust is just another bubble. My bubblegum, my lover.

We will only ask you why are you here on our Normal Planet, and why are you cutting out the eyes on this paper bag you are making into a mask. I will call you Paper Grocery Bag Boy. It is not a relationship.

“Yes, it is.”

“No. It’s not.”

“You know me, and I know you. That’s a relationship.”

“No. And no again.”

“You care about me.”

“I do not care about you.”

“Yes, you do. Put a gun to your head.”

“I’m not putting a gun to my head.”

“Use mine.”

“Where did you get a gun.”

“Why do you think I carry a paper bag around.”