Acting.

On nights when I can hear the air buzz,

12 feet cubed filled

With mosquitos, loud and --

All too timid even to bite,

The nights I'd beg for a whisper,

Reminding me how to reply.

The nights where one won't arrive,

And so, my mouth is bound shut.

I'll put on a performance just for me,

In the bathroom, with a bath drawn.

I'll pour soap in the fraudulent water.

Props of fresh foam, and scents.

And my body against the set,

I'll beg it to believe will bring something,

Besides wrinkled skin and the taste of salt.