i kinda like how innocent we've become
though we come from somewhere
sewn and strung
out, sometimes
fate makes faces at me
glaring, tearing mended spaces set free
i think i see
things in mirrors
way too clearly for my fear
and then i make a story folded
try to open without warning
(this will all be gone by morning)
childlike wonder trumps what i allow
and now i wonder why, or how
as i laugh and stumble out of here
wet and cold and crystal clear
no matter what i said before
i lie
i wander towards the door
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