images--sort of poems (?)

i don't like this one but i did it in a few minutes, fast and then was walking and thinking of different ideas. don't feel very inspired though with how to put words together.

yesterday, today, the day before,
you were there. I think of you,
I have some things to say
curled tendrils of grass between my fingers
breaking off bits of sticks
deliberating which pin will deflate the
blister on your skin
the blistering cornea from the flame
i wonder, if me, you? why you?
what have they done to you
to keep you in line?
what terrible things have they said they will do
still i'm confused,
i was told the "w" was a "v" and that i was seeing
double because of what has become of me
my eyes do not see as well as my
mind's eye
the "leaning tower of pisa", written by someone on wiki
to describe astigmatism, is such a strange thing
when no one sees slanted like that
the way i described my broken neck
a decade ago, to monks and lawyers and friends of them
to family and anyone who had an ear to hear
how my neck was no longer straight but slanted
perspective
and yet love is not love which alters when it alteration
finds
or bends, with any twist or bender, with the remover
to remove
you, however many of you there are, are a fixed
mark on
my heart
your arrow through the grind
and yet i still cannot see your face clearly
obscurity safer than the pop pop pop
of balloons
lucky me to be so famous for nothing
or so followed and so poor
having a few quiet nights now and then
would even be enough
having my son would be everything,
i said to the sisters who said i didn't know them
(when i did)
i said,
"my son is the cake"
"romance is just icing"
suddenly this very guilty look going down, of
shock that one child could be this
and was above any of the mockery
if i marry a moral coward
it will be by trickery
i will need to be brave enough to stomach it
and he will have to be duped
which greek myth is it
where he is only caught when he is tricked?
i love you my intangible mist
between my fingers
your wings pressed
to kiss