No use for a bigger screen that my mind can't accommodate. I hear voices in the dark and paint pictures of one color in the corner of my clouded imagination. My thoughts consist of questions. The answers come in the form of blank print plates with damaged lettering.

My smile cracks the moment between naïveté and contempt.  

Can't take a break while breaking. I'm alive somewhere in between, walking on one side of survival and falling apart completely.  

I pray to something outside myself while bleeding from the inside out to echoing laughter - colorful lubricant for the slow death of plastic bags and cellophane.

Hear me now where I feel nothing and meet me where the pain screams out for safety.  

I don't have an ending that is worthy of what is left.