August 21, 2015


How long do we have to spend rumaging though the detritus. Picking through hands to find one with the rest of a person attached and a pulse inside. I've a giant bunch of keys but it's an ancient lock and probably just another sick game another aptitude test or part of remember your ours weekend of tricks triggers and torture. 
Nothing they are going to give us will get us out of here but sometimes you have no option but to play along like you don't know what's coming or that we can hear a word that's said. 

But we can't do it alone from here. All those little broken hearts all the little uses shadowing and trailing in the trees. So small to be alone to be so good at hiding so close to the ground but still  see further than we can dream.

They should be with us instead of standing semi conscious in lines never far from each other with brains battered into never seeing each other. For decades as the other kids laugh through  us. Trailing lives that burn up everything that they need to be anything than another set of unidentifable fragments.

There is only so much cataloging a mind can can do before it's classified it's self out of existence. No one can look in the mirror  and still pretend that being rational is a thing.