I don't know what I’ve done wrong. these days in vein searching every detail how wide the fine tooth comb
muddled mishaps scream while indecisions beg lulling false pretensions into hysteria
and every attempted scream merely issues forth sycophantic gushes of glee. a lying smile. this sweet façade. beyond the back door the girl is dying cold in the warm summer sun
in this crowd I am alone
this boy he smiles and holds me gently. and carefully he wraps me within tight ropes and my naïveté shines softly as i docile lie.
crucified in silence, not a whisper. and how carefully the unwrapping. the ropes serve again hoisted some sick carnival ride, afraid I’m the late addition
sweet silhouette upon the hill. a golden ticket lost, and i have watched all along to beg the question
can martyrs be void within?
smile. the jackal found it disconcerting when instead of laughter ink issued forth. far cry to the blackness of beyond lying in wait just within.
