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My ears are over-taped with shades
of grey; as such, I never
listen, merely nod
in your direction
where appropriate, where etiquette
shakes hands with common communism,
impulses weaving silver slithers
through electric minds. The space

between one earring and
the next is filled
with beaming smiles and glossy
lips; my cheekbones ache,
maintaining drawn-in stomach and
that twinkle in the eye. I learned

to nod, insert an anecdote, agree
whole-heartedly with all
the thoughts you thrust between
my teeth, yes smoking’s bad, yes
global warming’s getting old, yes let’s
talk NHS and brain-dead negativity
and Tory-biased politics. Yes,
Hitler was a good man,

you’re so right.
Amble off, think highly
of my jokey-eyed responses, blind
as I am deaf to brainwashing machinery
fused fast within my brain. Spending
pennies, I glance up to breathe awhile
at my reflection by the marble
sinks. And laughter lines
are fake from constant ache
of lies, and where I seek those dull,
robotic eyes, I see now only black.