a noise quieter than a dying breath mirrors on the blank side of the paper a need to control this suicide something i'll never quite understand what would heal these holes marks left by the feeding needle tonight the bullets turn into keys and we escape this was the day of losing control a sea of silence where i go stuck somewhere between a blick and a tear and the great distance maybe it was just a ghost of a voice i thought i once heard maybe nothing of the like maybe it was a memory i thought i saw creeping by maybe nothing