Hears to the Mute

just because you carry straw like brick,
i can’t be held
accountable for our accidents;
you draw your conclusions
with the eraser head,
and i’ll keep tracing what i thought i remembered
before the lines
redesign themselves around my neck.
your pupils are still dialated in the memory banks
you held hostage
for the sake of knowing 
if you could-
your mask is filthy,
worn like it were adorn in praise,
like those eyes could actually tell the truth;
but the day those cardboard cutouts
spills like dominoes across your toes
.. realeyes, you’re not.