She’s breathing on and fingering

The words that I’m imagining

In the glass she does her make up on in

 

I’m just a fish in a barrel

Going over the falls

While she skates in endless figure eights on top

 

Invisible walls

I keep on crashing into

 

She hid her heart in a lock

Bound with short skirts and knee high socks

The illusion of the world is kept like this:

 

An uncountable number; an impassible distance

Travelled for years, but it made no difference

The edges of existence are impenetrable 

 

Invisible walls

I keep on crashing into

 

No matter how close I get I’m still just as far away

​

(S. Smith)