so wittingly so.
it is hard to tell her what truths are at the tip of my tounge.
i will bite down
in order to keep peace around
when i dance, and i dance so feverishly... there is no one around but me
and when they see, they see... a gleam of light portrayed in circle patterns
and this is where i am alone
and i am concentrated on something of importance (at least, to me)
the shutter feels different under my finger, and the paintings don't come
the words don't flow directly, and they are without pattern
my words spoken are clouded and that of mockery
and i still can't get over the fact that you are as selfish as you are
