every curve, jilt raw and open
empty like my rotted insides, soaked like ****** eyes
and the smell of the charnel house, my company
i have locked myself here like the bone i am though
the frames untouched, the flames brush
painted I before I knew me
the monotonous, the nonsense
and this one end wonder makes me wonder
why not jump

in, onto dream ward bound the spiraled
runway plastered with the dancers feet
and me, somewhere

in the crowd.