How far
have the remaining drops traveled
Or do my veins
only flow with manuscript memories
Armed with only
dream vague solution birthrights
White clouds
dot the trail for each of my steps
The lines on the map
alternate between dawn and dusk
An awakening
that resembles gray morning night
But to an observer
what passes as life is only a painting
Red does not stop
but instead draws your flesh near
Green does not go
but instead lays to be walked upon
Yellow does not slow
but instead only says I told you so
It is only experience
that tells you why you can’t trust me
The stark value
of shock is only reality coming home
You thought it before
but not with someone you just met
At least not today,
our perversions must grow slowly
Still you deny it
until the secret code is chosen at random
Then the door will open
and you will find what is inside of me
Is really inside of you
like the droplets of a life you once knew