[untitled]

Lost in the woodwork,
in the basic common chaos of the mediocre day.
Lost in the crowd of old men and trophy wives.
Lost in a world where God serves shots to Mickey Mouse and Pluto hits on Paris Hilton and he wins and she fucks him like the dog he is because America’s winners and lime-lighters are easy, so sleazy.
Lost in time.
Lost in space.
Lost in the continuum of everything in between here and there and nowhere.
Lost in the blur of a screaming childhood—laughter infused with terror at homemade heart-breaks.
Lost in a fantasy world where water bottles are non-toxic and finger paint tastes like the color it implies. Where speed limits don’t exist and it doesn’t matter. Where flowers shun the sun and elephants don’t have to fear pianos.
Lost in the cold blue that is my hands.
Lost in the stars.
Lost in the night.
Lost in all of the nothing that makes up everything.
Lost in anticipation.
Lost in suspense.
Lost in candlelight.
Lost in the circle of a fight.
Lost in the feeling that it’s just not right.
Lost in a baby’s smile, her laughter.
Lost in your eyes, wandering for hours, with no idea where I am or where I’m going.
Lost in your eyes, where I don’t mind.