All Agog

Wrongest one to plug a hole
My thoughts turn to alcohol
One half is swallowed hole. All agog at the differences in the blank paper
crease
It’s creasing my fore-head up with the rise of confused eye-brows
Gawp for entire days at the warp of the window frame
Attempt to make connections without the use of physics knowledge.
All agape at the purity of the perfectly blank sky
And the horror that it turns into when I accidentally change my mind
There’s a sound that I listen to that is too low to record
And it resonates inside my small intestine, changing up my guts