Song for Hot Water Bottle

My subsitute heart, quick
remedy for loneliness, I'll fill
your plastic womb with song
and water, remove my socks
and sneak back to bed, into
a nation freed from a world
ravaged by winter.

*I finished a poem from two years ago.

Paralleograms

Over grub, he mentions for a fifth time how he only shops at Armani. He licks the thick sauce from his fingers to avoid any stains. That's when I notice H sliced parallelograms into his eyebrows. Yes, parallelograms! He spent three hours in a holding cell and now he's fronting as if he was in a high security prison!