i reach out. everything steps back. hope sutures the painted wound. she's a bird without a lot of free time trapped in a house with a lot of windows. bang. he misses kisses. he built this guilt. though he's not a poet. rather, a carpenter. a man in his wooden horse.

she shot the camera with outstretched arms. eyes in the back of her head, she missed me completely. there's all this candy laying around.