Stepping forward to the past
on the path you tip toe...

They echo
with your face...

The bravest of cowards
is an addict...

I cannot find it.
I cannot reach it...

My head groans
as the world spins in the rhythm...

I set myself
upon myself...

I wanted to die in fire,
to fade into the setting sun...

Slave
to the once wings...

It banged in the door when we first met,
somehow both louder and quieter...

In that place -
on an unfolded futon...

In that strange wasteland,
of both bright and dark...

In that silence
the words frozen on our lips...