I'm a total wreck. Afraid to let anyone near. Afraid they'll see the real me.

In my limited realm of experience, beginnings led to endings.

Don't Stop ...down, ...Down there ...down where ...monsters, ...Run!

Yeah, I know getting high isn't so smart. Ask me if I care.

But death doesn't scare me. To know exactly when I might expect it, up close and in my face, would actually be a comfort. Because to tell the truth, most of the time dying seems pretty much like my only means of escape.

Eyes Tell Stories But do they know how to craft fiction? Do they know how to spin lies? His eyes swear forever, flatter with vows of only me. But are they empty promises? I stare into his eyes, as into a crystal ball, but I cannot find forever, only movies of yesterday, a sketchbook of today, dreams of a shared tomorrow. His eyes whisper secrets. But are they truths or fairy tales? I wonder if even he knows.

Something stirred beneath my skin, some being inside I'd only suspected existed, demon or angel, I couldn't say.