Lost in a paperback rain
Picking through books that you won't read again
Keeping your promises vague
Lost in the crowd in the circus parade

Keeping your Polaroids dry
Delirious fevers burn night after night
The cryptic malaise that you're in
The art that may come of it I'd recommend

To focus attention on books you might write
Ripped off from diaries, kept out of sight
The evidence you hide

Keeping your bed warm at night
It's not an illusion it glows very bright
With the young coal the fire is fed
Who you keep with you is best left unsaid

On finding particular friends
that all moral fiber will bend
To put them in letters you burn as you write
Seen in reflections and not with your eyes
Cultivating lies