The engine speaks and I'm wide awake.
Somewhere past the signal of an ending I still remain.
Dropped down, let go, right next to an emptiness.
Held back, repressed, because of a bitterness.
Crossed out, remote, despite what the public says.
That's not what they meant.

Give me something to do
besides sitting all alone and wishing I was someone else.
I can't dream for myself.
I'm wide awake in a constant.

Install self neglect.
From a signal and a weakened reception.
The engine continues to sputter along.
Ignoring all content.
Extending the wreckage that still remains.

Spilled out, undone, all over the passage way.
Profane, excess, grabbing for another frame.
The one piece I got I can't seem to give away.
Don't we get one more take?

Why do we always want so deeply
the things we can't achieve?
I had a vacancy I hoped this would fill...