Still Poem by Ella Veyes

My lips.
Always cracked.
For my mind,
Not my word.

Bath water,
Never gets cold.
Nothing to find,
Nothing to hurt.

Odd underwear.
Near dusty make-up.
Never touch beauty,
Not these fingertips.

Dreaming so slowly.
Sleeping even less.
Still falling out empty.
Still incising my lips.

Cigarettes burn longer,
And hotter than my breath;
Brighter than my eyes:
It’s nothing to quit.

And some too-soft key,
Man-made in minor,
Or sold sonnetised:
Becomes bullshit.

Fish bowl journeys.
Mocking motion.
Am I still proof?
Or until.

Numb is numbed.
Static flows.
Move re-move.
and still.