A new want that drives the screw through and through and through my rib cage until the nifty little end pokes my heart.

It's meant to tickle,

I know it's meant to tickle,

but all it does is sting.

A fatal error has occurred.

Communication to the server has been lost.

Knowing never really changes anything. 

The door opens and all the life spills in.

Your heart cracks open like a yawning mouth and it all hops right out.

I'm looking into the past with binoculars but my eyes are weary and everything is a marshland.

This room was more filled last I saw it.

My feet stood firmer on the ground the last time I was here.

I don't know.

Maybe, I imagined it all.

Maybe, I named it myself.

Maybe, I sat on the floor of my living room and carved and carved a foam board until it resembled something that wasn't a geometric shape.

I don't know.

Maybe, the dawn caught me like a mother or a river that had been redirected.

Maybe, it found me standing unsteady and stole me away.

I don't know,

my eyes are weary. 

Everything is a marshland.