so freeing,
yet so uncertain

will they look back,
will I look back
and judge

delivering the death sentence
condemning the past

how could you be so naive
so immature
so oblivious

the images
the scenes
stencilled, scratched into the surfaces
will they always be there
will they always make me
        twist and squirm and turn

so dramatic
is this real (or is this just fantasy)
which perceptions are true
and which are just percieved

the time
it draws closer
the magic
will it stay?

how to contain the magic in a moment

the last receipt

receipts
spelling
a magical moment

it is all coming loose
descending
hair falls from its tie
escaping
the smells permeate the air
scratching the lungs

the words are in me
they want to come out

the music,
it disturbs

agitated, afraid
if I let them loose
if I let them come out

they will know

will they judge?
they will be afraid
they are unaware
they think it's all innocence

little do they know
there has been suffering
so much suffering
there has been struggling
so much struggling

will it continue?
does happiness only come from oblivion?
sorry, I meant from innocence.

a tear leaks out
a tear in the fabric

why?

passing the nights away
floating
drifting
soon
an anchor
hold me down
a rope on the ankle
bobbing, adrift,
but able to return

a common point
an equilibrium

yes
the change

will it come soon?
will it happen?
should I work towards it?
will it work towards itself?
I have an identity

but I'm afraid to share it

it is the time for change
the time to
        discover yourself
so many questions