Pigments. Different shades, representing the different pieces of the different people you confide in. Sound. Different volumes, representing all the things those different people, want to say, some they scream and some they whisper, some talking so quietly we don’t even realize and we continue you on with guilty stories, domino effecting the decibels around you. Weight. The different weight of different things, people lifting conversations with the lightest touch no even noticing the ten pound sliver of reason sitting atop, we all are some sort of weight life champions, going about conversations and stepping right on top of the words that mean so much and were such a strain to the ones whom mouths they fell out of. Telephones. Calling me, calling you, texting this and texting that, click flash, evidence. Hair. Messed up, guilty. All fresh, untouchable, bellow the collar bone touching and anything that happens now will fade away in the shower. Water. Drinking it and using it to our advantage. Pretending. Pretending boys, acting like they know what they want and that they are strong, strong pretending boy crying now, was it to be expected? The vault is open and the emotions were flooding and the alcohol induced playground definitely didn’t work for you, but wonders for me, honestly, I am wondering. Still. Wondering. Pretending girls, pretending to hate and pretending to love, pretending all these things to actually end up loving and caring and they really must go back to pretending already, please pretend some more wont you, Peter Pan. Stop talking, all you ever say is pointless. You’re pointless. Schemes. Plots for parties and plots for hearts. You’re a hunter, your weapon… charm. You’re location, the intimate places, bed and dark rooms and moments and eyes are casted toward strangers or out of the light, and you are curiously lame. Stare. Stare with your own eyes, you keep acting like your someone else, left the old you in the closet, you are a closeted body that’s for sure. Upside to this is no side, good bye.