i don't have rosey cheeks.
i don't have anything like that left.
all i have is the closeness of death.

hungry animals leave the woods
and find a job in the city
just to get away
from my collecting dust.

no one wants to choke.

i build a fire and listen to the echo's
of someone else's laugh.

a voice that i don't recognize.
a voice that talks the talk.
enough to make me walk for days.

until im lost
until im crazed.

enough to stop trying to see
through the haze.

and see the way
for its many ways.