he's quiet sometimes
but the silence he gives
is so extremely loud
the laughs he gives, they're
a gift only to the faces on the screen
he sees

but he doesn't see us anymore
the people who gave him his face
the people who hold out hope
he doesn't see his blood anymore
because we are his blood,
are we?

maybe he doesn't want to see his blood
because he's squeamish. maybe he doesn't
want to see his blood because he's afraid. maybe
he doesn't want to see his blood because we're
so unequivocally wrong and young and dumb
or old and too wise and clueless
maybe he just doesn't know
at all.

i certainly don't.