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