We are a moment of awkward eye contact
         and sweaty palms;
All the tension of the world
      weighing on feeble shoulders.

I'm not sure if we're going anywhere,
Or if we're already where we need to be.

Walking past you in the hallway,
Always makes me
              Think.

We were
under the bridge;
looking at the street lights
and the half frozen,
patiently racing
river.
               We started talking
about all the things
we've done;
all of the things we
simply did.
               And I thought to myself...
        "maybe this is growing up."

It makes you think.
Or maybe it only makes me think.
But regardless,
I think maybe we are all the other face of
Madness.
I think maybe the line is much thinner, the edge much closer
Than we let ourselves understand.
I think maybe the difference between
Me
And Sylvia
Might have been a day at the park,
Or a kind word from a dear friend,
Or a movie I saw as a child.
I think maybe it could always have gone that way, for me,
But it just didn't.
I think maybe it could always have been different, for her,
But it just wasn't.
The way somehow Earth evolved to hold life, and Mars, so close by,
Is dusty and dead-
I too, am inhabited by a cry, and I do not intend to let it swallow me.