He takes off his sweater
A birthmark
Flecks his skin
and through the window
he is shaped like a god
She paints her lips red
from the hole where it cracks
and in front of the TV
Her skin becomes
Pale and yellow
In front of the TV
anyone becomes ugly
I hate you
as you are
I hold a hand in front
But there is a hole
So I see anyway
If you knew how ridiculous
you look
and I run past
Hitting cars, waking alarms
I am the boy
who shot a rocket
in his own hand
No one
can mend a broken hand
I hate you
as you are