an unhappy chase
under lights so limp
is bound to hurt, to
throw a little dirt

when ready to leave
you must believe
that i was in queue
just behind you

when ready to rise
you must realise
that along your side
is where i reside

when ready to deny
you must try
to dye my red eyes
for denial never cries

an ajar door
is only half true
which one is me
and which one is you?

on this dimly lit night
i hardly have any sight
i feel somebody here rakes
into piles, my many mistakes
my fallacies, my lying errors
my slowly glowing terrors
of lives coming too close
of much heavier a dose
of my ideals spurned
of my fingers burned