You're a sneaky little thing, aren't you? Feeling tall on your pedestal. Lost.
Its just me. The effect on my back. A large coat. Heavy. But never worn since it's always lost.

A Romeo of all sorts. Do not bother with the door. Locked. How digestive keys can be.
The Moon a cheesy flashlight. Some crackers, perhaps? Wouldn't want you to get lost.

Gone to the dogs. Your stinky subconscious rotting there, though all I see it cats.
Pendulums of the inevitable. The clock silent. Tick. Tock. Deteriorating. Leaving. Lost.

Our dance is most barbaric when music-less. I see the notes but the tunes are mute.
A patched quilt torn too many times. Dull colors. Salty stains. Why can't it just be lost?

I know you keep me here because my ankles are tied down with dirt chains. Rusty. Weary of just looking.
Too many scabs, now. Constellations. Tantalizing with a reality of us being something but lost.

Keep up. Fallout seems like it might be cloud nine. It only it had more patience. Try.
Create me. Means nothing to you if your not looking. Non-existent. Imaginary. Lost.