Mission aborted. Imprisoned, I do not touch anything I do not mention your name. The chance was to quit the microcosm of your powered bones. Wanting the street to run to end the standing against screams.
It jumps like a toad, the truth. I catch it. Wets my hand. The failure of the gossip to turn me on. I was not willing to become a scapegoat. In dialogues must we play the words without sleep? The moon stalks, me on my way to nowhere.
