He is articulate
and calculating;
Quips that pinch my heart.

fixed.

i wonder where we hide
or why
and when.
where the passions flee
and we're left with
a yearning
and we don't know how to fix it.

or ourselves.

i see it in the masses.
the masks
the characters
the way we try to live
so that no one sees the way it feels
to tamp ourselves into the ground.

and the ground does nothing
but
encase
us in mounds of dirt
of what the earth once was,

but living things don't matter much
when they're buried
underground.

it seems i have convinced myself the world is not my own. bees do not buzz for me and snow never falls where i tread. it seems i have convinced myself the world is not my own.

i walk outside of everyone. i see the entire world through a window i found, lying in dust in an attic where i used to be a part of something more. this window might be grimy and it might shatter when i lose the ability to be careful, but it is mine. at times, all i own.

and, the world does not want me, does not need me, never looks inside that window i live behind.

i never wished on stars - how pointless!

i've never seen a psychic or tore a wishbone in two. there is no point; the world has given me all it can manage.

Saddened, i have nothing to return.

but i walk. i walk so much in my mind, alone in travels, alone in thoughts, and the whispers softly come from low-hanging trees dipping down to touch my shoulders; they wish me luck.

115

Oh!
To listen, to judge,
to break these worlds apart.
To give focus to men
Who see without seeing
and have long forgotten
the world is for the
dreams
that cry and spark,
pitch and scream,
that shake it all apart.

oh, oh.

Do we go?
Do we?
You have to let me know - I don't
move all that
well
on my own.

Do you swear?
Do you?
Because, I need to know
we're there -
You can't just
Leave me all alone.

But could you?
You could
Wrap me up in
silhouettes - pretend I never was
And I will be gone.
I will.