night sand

mrs. cellophane shoulda been my name, mrs. chellophane, shoulda been my name
becuase you can walk right by me, look right though me, and never know im there.

alone and invisible should be synomyms
no matter how much tv we watch
cant say the words on tips of tounges
repressing ideas that run in my blood
the weight of ur scent
digests in my nostrils to form sneezes of you
the deconstruction has begun

so layering on shells like hermits
finding places inbetween palms
falling from ur fingers
the shore will be different.

spun round too fast
freezing envelops times we woulda coulda shoulda been my name mrs. cellophane.