I walk my mind alone,
drunk, and in the dark.
I don’t bring an atlas,
can’t even find a North Star.
Can’t provide proof of identity,
I left it all at your house.
That way I’m the white sheep,
but still, their senses are aroused.
Odd enough,
finally, they can see
my purple toe nails, all sharp.
It plagues their minds with ease,
my red eyes, my right nostril, all clogged.
If I make it look sexy,
can I come back to your house?
If I made it more sleazy,
could I avoid having to blow it down?
I’m dying to hear your thoughts,
because what’s yours is mine now, too.
But I can’t open up my mind,
so trying to share it is no use.
I can’t change it and I try,
but my body will just have to do.