A light cracked the door,
And we heard:
"All rise."
He was experiencing Justice
Behind the glass, in a box.
He scratched and stretched
Skin over his eyes and stubbled face,
Needing a fix for his appearance.
Something was unbalanced
Before me.
Our view was that of figures bending,
Whispering inaudibly,
With ear pieces and muffled mikes,
Suspending us, and time.

At recess we talked of trials and errors,
And recalled the blind man's bluff;
Then someone called us over.

A solemnity plea was set before the judge.
Did he hear:
"Just over the limit...
Machines have a rate of variability..."

He wore no belt or laces,
And probably no socks.
That could make him unbalanced.

"All rise."
Again and again.

I almost fell to my knees,
Pressed and raised my hands
To surrender.

And I was just a witness.

Generation Playstation.
How many of you know that when it's two o'clock
The sun points
South?

I grew up falling down from trees and hills.
But I also taught myself to make fire
Without fire.
I drank too, as a teenager.
We drank around bonfires.

When we came home red-eyed, smoke-smelling and usually superficially
Cut, our fathers would pretend
Not to be proud.

We saw right through it, just like our mothers did.
They felt they had to say something.
They did, and we pretended to listen,
For the sake of peace to rest.

There was no room for drugs:

We were already
Happy.

Look your best for death
Before you drown in a fairytale
You've marked the date with an 'X'
In red on your calendar
You plan to sneak out that night
And you've butterflies in your chest
But you've just got to have this date with her
So look you're best for death
"I love you's" are for the dead.

Isn't it funny
How when someone leaves you
That they're the only person
you'd want to talk to about it?