like the blind leading the deaf into collective senselessness.
the ties we always seem to cut,
when one starts to care too much.
fragments in time are void, unconscious
i don't feel real now very often.
echos fading, backwards, slowly
calculated movements, intent repeating.
if we could sit and just be heard i'd never speak another word
of all that's lost, or what's to gain
lives turned fragile down by the lake