What matters to each his own is something different.
It's not easy to say
For each what may,
For some it's play,
For others, pay.
For me, it was pain.

I'm not the same.

there was a friend, got to the point
at every end, first name, Barb
                     last name, Wire,
she was plain as could be,
not many close friends, you see?
she entertained change,
went a little strange, got different
changed her look and
her first name, still, to her shame,
she did not gain any friends, she would
coil and recoil and actually worked best
under t e n s i o n,
she had a penchant for sharp cutting remarks,
her last name as always was, Wire
oh, sorry to finish
the story, her fetching
new name was,          * Rusty Razor*

Why'er you looking at your screen that way?
Step closer, look closer, Rusty is waiting...

I never had an interesting cover
and the title on my spine is old and peeling
and people don't publish reviews about me anymore.

When I was six I ate a fish that tasted like my future,
and presently I'm telling her that things are starting to feel unreal again.
"Shhhhhh.
Rest your twisted head."
I said she gave me this wicked vessel,
and that I hate her for it.
She said,
"I know darling.
That's why you're my favorite."

She told me to stay but I got lost in the echo.
Sometimes I can't help it,
I've just got to let go.
And she shined through the chasm like a sun's ray through clouds.
I always wonder what she could be up to right now.
But no, it's not me,
and loneliness stings.
Wherever you aren't is where I'll always be.

I gave her a sign.
Delivered it twice.
Her sympathy is boundless;
she was always so nice.

Hip to the trip as we both drop our objects.
Clumsiness is one way of saying I Love You.
Speech dissolved a long time ago; became an excuse for just staring.
I cannot seem to convince myself of no longer caring.