Fingertips tracing horizon lines, a pantomime in the mirrored light. Set fire to the blades of grass my toes coast above and deny the stars my affections, my heart is set on the rising sun. The days and the hours and minutes have no feeling, easy stealing as the rest of the trivial substance my soul dances with, and around, these circles are engaging a war within my swollen head. Play dead, play house, and anticipate to forget. these voices in whispers now howl through the fields. Begging to be heard but i am one stubborn *****, i'm lost within these words. Translation is futile. puckered lips on these metal objects just long enough to make them rust. the cold, I've been told, suits my texture. i wear it like an armor and parade and weave through the rows of trees. my castle, my domain. no names. high on restless behavior and ferocity - i stalk the river like a helpless child and strike it with myself. submerged between what you claim and what you believe, reality means nothing. those conversations mean nothing. a dollar a day and a passionless ******....idle now, given up. to this whole perception and i have learned no lessons, like the rest, it's irrelevant. i am tying knots and sharpening sticks. a universe in a cloud of gray. my favorite color. i am born, and bored, i am around, i am all of the above. i click my heels and still stand still, the laughter confides in the humid air, a charming lullaby and i suddenly feel so alone again. time spent, pencil marks erased. lost and not found. my fingertips trace the ground. i lay my head. i'm way ahead.