parental stereo
mute
pointed to an instrumental voice instead so
hitting skin on speed he
red eyes while with me
she in the waiting room
reading into my missing beats

addict par accident
on salary
explaining what was meant by
responsibility swap
response dead
force excess to muffle the curious
oh pardon the circus

she paid for the blinding
he worked for my folding
blindfold active mind like nevermind
sugar on the lip
too young even for innocence
locked in with the toiletry

play dead
knife on tile
awaiting a dead beat trial
beat down the door
tv style

a chance to fuck up another
under the sheets
heat lamp to warm the walking
disinvolve the grief

just the stereo
thick like paint
runs over the story line
opaque the point
enough of the story
both grim and print
not feeling so alright but alright

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