standing still. in the middle of the carousel. faces. legs. bottles. arms. in the incredibly loud spinning freak show orgy of everyone you know and don't know. and you.
7 hours later. there is the black and the black and white. dust in the sheets. the crackling radio. spilt coffee. bruised ribcages.
a half a year ago. there were eyes moving closer. in the present. there are hands pushing and hands pulling.
youtakecaregottagoiloveyouhaveabeautifulday.
words written in melting ink. letters kept inside empty novels. phantom postcards from places that will never exist. because you will never be good enough.
and so.
you still. stand still. in the middle of the carousel.

'i didn't mean to scare you'
but it's too late and visions of blimps crashing to the ground and dogs raining from the sky and that little jump in your ribs when you realize it's all about to end and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it are already floating through my dreams.
'move over i can't breath'
they said to the cat and the boy and the second cat at 4.30 am. 3 hours later you fall asleep. 2 hours after that you are on your 6th cup of coffee with 2 more to go. waste not.
another lightbulb dies out and the mood lighting is complete. it only took 1.5 years.
'where have you been, my dear'
want not.