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Playgrounds. Hangars. Weapons in space. Look, its almost christmas and what have we here. Someone left the back door open. The opening of the mirrored ways left a streak across the asphalt roads. Failed another test today, another and another, it gets easier after each. And more so now than ever before. At least you see it, or see it after. Or this is how you do it right. Or you respond with a letter and say hey and you wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait for your friend to tell you that its alright its okay itapos;ll be fine. Or even just a simple something like, no I cannot do this for you.

Or just voice. Did you know mice, in experiments, react to the sound of friendly voices in the exact same way as it does to prozac? And you let loose and shit across the page in kleidoscopic colours because you havenapos;t been eating well and japanese songs are echoing through the galaxy.

I donapos;t know what to say. To tell you that love is both this and that, and its good and bad, its precious and worthless, its common and rare, sacred and profane (which is taboo), its terrifying and exhilarating, clouded and clear, an eternal moment and flying past times. What do you want to hear? Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Donapos;t call me. Donapos;t talk to me. Donapos;t come near me. Is that it? Because mama always told me that if I canapos;t say something good then donapos;t say anything at all. This is bad. This is bad. This is absolutely fucking terrible. I canapos;t move. I canapos;t speak. I canapos;t believe in anything. The closest has come and tore out everything. The tower is rotten and should fall. The tower is gonna be crashing down. Ah And the electronic overseers will look upon this and try to judge if there are levels beyond the raw angst. Donapos;t take it so seriously. Why so serious?�

Why are you still here, I told you to go away. I stopped listening to you. I never answered your calls. I donapos;t have time for your bullshit. I have to choose the right people to be around. I donapos;t need someone like you. And it hurts, it hurts. And its dark. And its very quiet. And there are demons down here.

Whoever you are, that was not for you.

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