he turned the light off.

we all want to be wanted. an empty cardboard box an unpeeled orange.
The remnants left upon the ignorant's carnage. I haven't slept since the smoke cleared
 and waters parted. Last on the shelf at the back burner sale. silenced like the "E" at the end of the Dan's Quayle, i gave him a potato but he punched me in the stomach and bailed. My family doesn't value me. i used say it's cuz i was priceless but the truth behind the broken bulbs is that i can no longer fight this. and there was never a cavalry. Not a ghost, a whisper, a faint wind or a cloud. my vocal chord's out of tune and there's no light's allowed. The only reverb come's from the anxious nerves as the acidic bile is spilled outside this ghost town suburb. a colony of autonomy, the shadow of a dichotomy. there's a light on the hybrid but it dare not bother me. I'm going to the place where the needles are soft. Looking up from the bottom of the ocean the reasons stop. 100 more miles that i'm left to run, 93 million between what can't be undone. and i'm left with a nagging cough. tired of sitting alone collecting moths, so that light that i left has finally been turned off.