It is the fault of a firefighter for putting your desires out. The blame of a cop for ruining the smile. The town itself for letting these figures in.

You were burning, happy and alone. The stereo played something in the back round that reminded you of a loss, a loss you must not recover from. The improbable odds of winning that war with mourning. Keep looking at the clock, it never stops.

You wrapped yourself in the blanket on the cold, damp cement floor and noticed the paint peeling off the walls seemed to morph if you stared long enough. It was jail, it was honest. It wasn't the lowest of places but it sure wasn't your desire.

These ******* broke you, only laughing at the shattering of hearts and swearing they were needed for your sake and mine. I guess its always been coming that way, down the line, down the lost direction so many pointed in.

I am now lost with out the chaos, without the dignity of knowing you or I, will be ok in the claws of the madness they call "order". You never needed anyone but yourself. You never needed. you never. You, burning and buried.