Penciled Cursive-Red (Air)

[Verse 1:]
After a little lip-tugging, he was able to pull his mouth over his head
And all the way down until it suction-cupped the ground
And it's he who listens with tongue and replies with pre-head hands
With striped fingers that would rather cup around the self-saturation
That overcoats the world, it's the exhale that solidifies
And slashing hands will only nourish a growing wall
Or maybe infect open wounds from above the eyelid line
It's the drawn-on girl who doesn't buy
Her Easter Sunday candy until it's on discount
Still trying to find a clearance on Christ
One the second-life sale's expired and
It's she who hides the fire between pressed hand
While lip syncing to "The Lord's Prayer"
Who staples herself with labels
But surrenders the blame for he piercings
And besides, behind the white curtain
She's having her rib done once a week
By a beautician who wraps herself with the backs of mirrors
Even after signing inside of the circle, jigsaw people manage to
Pocket extra features in the face exchange for later building
And it's they who slyly hold down the release button
While fastening their conveyor belt buckles
Who only snap the acronym to their chests
But participate in discussions on thread strength
And of course, the tighter the squeeze of the hand
The more the crumbs show up on the carpet
And the disposable gloves are tearing

[Verse 2:]
From every 'us' dangles a series of 'me's by see-through strings
And their center0kissing backs are painted with faces
And each face is all each self is made of
Exposed to light that dried the paint
And made a name whose components can't be broken down
Into basic colors while the front swims in a shadow
Reshaping itself with a mirrored hand that's too small to
Swallow the background with a body pressed to its surface
It's impossible to peel away from oneself as long as the underskin Accepts the pinch, and the Earth can be seen spinning

[Verse 3:]
Until some dry day one unstraps the crown
And crumbles it with a self-wringing hand
To sprinkle over fine printed fingers tied together
To form a circle and then slips in lightly to help the float
And then and only them will the air split at its center
[?]

[Verse 4:]
And the exhale and the curtain [?]
And the sea becomes gaseous and won't be parted
Maybe just follow the one man [?]
Feed the pencil to the fire
And it's me and it's you, and it's me and it's you
And it's they and it's he, and it's she and it's you
And it's you and it's we, and it's they.. and it's you
And it's you and it's they, and it's you and it's we
And it's me