Things You Call Fate by Sondre Lerche

nom de guerre

i picture you (hunched over) reading this
at your computer

in

your room, and
everything is gray (except)

for

the little bit of paint
on

my face, the red and blue,
dripping down

the gauntlet of my nose
like
(teardrops)

and

i picture you
(painting a picture of me) thinking,

head in hands,
about the human condition,

and

about what happens (when) we
paint angels

that never come out
of

their rooms...