you are here with me in theaters, watching old films, looking past the close ups of pretty actresses, searching for cigarette burns.
some sort of warning, to see the story is close to ending, or the reels are just changing.
pictures wont stop flickering and i wonder who you're pretending to be now.
but i'm afraid, alone, in the dark i don't have the patience, to wait for the curtains or the credits so i'll clammer my way down to the exits and continue to pester the quiet projectionist.