I thought I'd finally slipped forgood
the day we tripped and fell
and then we were plummeting head first
down the rabbit hole
racing toward insanity
and the rest of them watched complacently
as the fall left us
hanging by our necks
and we were suspended, waiting,
the epitomy of teenage redundancy
transfixed by the notion of invincibility
visions of divinity within reach
like the bright white of false sunlight
only the flickering of waiting room lights
flourescent lies
leadeing the parade in their charade
and the purgatory of the futitlity is tearing me apart
and this fraudulence has me obsessed with this mess
and I wonder
when the word friend began to hurt
like a curse
condemning me to second best
tossed aside with the rest
and I must confess
that I'm still
hanging