a few missing words, a window to my soul.

Bird’s eye view, I can see into your soul,
Your skin is transparent to my acid-eyes,
They burn...

Frosted glass, condensation builds,
Forming pretty patterns, but then a shot,
And a bullet shatters the attractive illusion.

broken glass makes another pretty pattern on the ground,

i tiptoe around in a room devoid of sound,

this strange place i once found,

it makes my heart pound, silently.

have you ever tried to trace subtance of your dreams in reality?

i never had patience for thousand-piece puzzles,

crosswords cross out meaning in my mixed-up mind,

but i think you'll find,

that all the sense you've been seeking was right under your nose all that time.

so just go to sleep dear, and it will all fall into place,

like the fake snow i made the other day.