• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 02
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Broken News

Look at the crease, positioned between my eyes,
you can focus there without awkwardness.
Even if I could see you, it would be as if
you were making eye contact, as if we were
in dialogue, as if we were on a level.

Some people say the eyes are windows
to the soul and so for both our sakes it’s easier
this way. No one need pretend. No one needs
to act polite, to concentrate hard, very hard,
whilst moderating their voice, their body language:

all so unreliable, so open to misinterpretation.
Instead, here I am in black and white –
You can read me like a book and what I say
never changes, except in your perception of it
in your consumption of it

in your ownership of it.
The grey areas are yours, all yours, right
where you can regulate them, which is good
because the soul is untamed, unregulated, above
politeness, because brown skin gleams differently

in the light to pale skin, because my mouth makes
the same words sound different to yours.
Look at the script. Look at the text. It’s black.
Look at the background. Look at the paper. It’s white.
White and neuro normal.