Bloodshot Lids of Pitch Black Blight

Raise your hand if you spy on your neighbors.
That’s such a lie.
You dirty little liar. I know the truth.
I spy on my neighbors at three-in-the-morning on my fire escape
With nothing but a sweater on and boxer briefs, elastic making imprints on my waist.
Trying to get comfortable on the window takes a bit of effort but it’s worth it.
They scuttle like turtles across their hardwood floors and big picture window
Half-naked, wow. He has a great body.
Do I freak you out? I hope I do. I know I do.
Why doesn’t anyone like to admit what they do?
We would all feel a lot better.
Our pupils would rejoice and not have to whisper secrets.
The secrets would not need to whisper back and nothing would be private.
But then I guess there’d be nothing to spy on if nothing was private.
Damn, I always have to find the circular argument and take the fun out of everything.
Raise your hand if you like circular arguments.