password
	allstars cacophany
	pitter patter
	eraser.   arithmatic.  silent hill.
	terrible ankle shoot.  drip water.  alive, alone



he wanted to be alone
eyes over the plate and wanted gone.
terrible apoplex.  wrong standing arrival.
mirror half revealed, the blanket gripped with dust.
like that dust i should crumble and be wiped away
where were you, and unfair, i turned.  twisted around hope.
but the hope is gone now, and knots form again.  no one will care, no one can even see.
i open my eye and can't see.  not anything that was supposed to be
just my own reality.  it wasn't supposed to work that way
the sun will come back tomorrow and the slow encroachment will continue
luckily i wasn't trying to please the sun in the first place
things are bad enough without that delusion
cored, but unsliced.  peeled and left to brown.
what was it worth
and no one wonders why we have to ask that of ourselves, or what that really means
now i'm alone too.  and there are no crutches here, nothing to guide the growth.
hey kiddo. but not that reference, the other one.  i guess i'll be the one knocking one day.
some people don't even notice when it's right in front of them
and i guess that's perfect, isn't it.  just a little more and the circle can close.
i guess i learned some things as well.  but i don't really know and i hope i wasn't the only one.
great, great, i guess the blessing was just there to replace those dreams that stopped.
but there aren't any mirrors that work in the dark, so i just have to hope i'll be beautiful in the end.
a twisted seething mess, crushed under its own weight.
maybe the dust would be better.  no gambling involved.
there's that sweeping caress over my brain again.
you can only put that dog down so many times, son.  maybe a dustpan would do better than a box.
back in the wall.  reign those metaphors in, there's a line where the art stops and the product starts
and really that says something here.  i remember the words that marked that line.
it's too bad i can't stomach exposure or maybe i'd have a better chance.
ohh i can taste that sunlight already.  yeah i'll do my part.  you always did yours.
obviously no response.  one dot with a bunch of lines faded by eraser.
imagine me saying teehee as i point out that there was more than one you here
yeah that one was just for you and you know it
i'll still ask and dream because the pain lets me know i'm real
that's the validation of the day, gang, is endless fucking pain
nevermind, the set guys ruined that joke.  like i'm gonna operate all those puppets on my own.
try as i might, this was always a sitcom.  look up.  i can't read the sign myself.
maybe i was afraid as well.  the laugh track was my own delusion, an old family secret.
i can't think of anyone who owes me.  guess the circle needs one more mark.
i felt alive, though, i'll admit that.  and i had the smile for ages.
sorry, it was an inspirational game to me.  i controlled a puppet controlling a puppet controlling a puppet.
but games didn't really mean the same to us, did they.
well, who knows.  the toys are still out at the end of the day.
no one to tell and no one to scold.  i say it with a crooked grin, knowing damn well it isn't ideal.
at least both eyes are open now and my reality fades
maybe not for long but i'll fill my lungs while i can, not expecting the pain to be there again







