Different from every angle
the glass strays from circular
etched sideways, protrusions
peculiar to the eye making
movements where there were none
because the head tilts with
the push and pull of the heart
in stationary stance, regardless.
Beats pulse from man-made
machines and they aren’t
in sync with the flow of you,
they don’t sink into your waters
with consequences of effect
and symbolic changes in stream
but there’s someone in there,
someone with an ear in your ribs
pressed up against the walls
and tapping tones against bones.
Embrace him, because he begs,
whimpers wildly while you see
through only your own eyes.
Let him out, but keep a finger
wrapped tightly around a leash
for he may wander, stray soberly
with your fickle flesh to wounding ways.
When he leaves, you remain,
the body free of his troubled
tantrums for release, but 
the things he found with you
wound around the frontal cortex,
processing things for his eyes,
will stay like ghosts of someone
you once knew.