And I looked at her lying there, sprawled with her fishnet tights and long black hair. And I mouth these words and I did it for you. And then I fall.

Backwards I tumble, faster and faster and faster and faster, and I twist and I turn and everything is grey.

And everything and nothing fills my head. And there she is! My beautiful one, she clicks her fingers, and suddenly I'm back. Back in that room, with the girl and her black shirt and black eyes and black hair.

Reach down; I wipe away a stray droplet of crimson, the one imperfection on her perfect face. Beautiful. All for you my love. It. Was. All. For. You. It was always about you, always. Always and forever.

The door is red, the door is green. No! The door is brown and it opens out and up and round, and there's a whole wide world out there. And I could be anyone, I could be anything and I could...

And suddenly I'm running, faster than I've ever run before, faster, faster, till I feel like I could just take off here and now, and leave it all behind, just soar until everyone's just another little dot on the ground and everything blue, then black, then nothing and as I breathe my last all I see is her and...

I'm not running anymore.

I wonder where my legs have led me, but I know this place. The names are the same though the faces have changed.

No one sees me, it's for the best. I leave, and I walk and I wander and I wonder and I think about and I think about how much I want her and...

I'm running again, and it's night now and I don't know where I am.


No, I'm back. Back to the house of a thousand nightmares and a million silent








Her house, her grave, her home. Her house, her grave, her home. It's deathly silent and I have to laugh at that, but now it's not silent anymore and it's not funny an it never was, and perhaps everything is right cause everything is wrong. Cause everyone knows that's how these things work.

There's a picture in the hallway, and it screams its thousand words at me until I have to look away. She's smiling there, she doesn't smile at me anymore, though, to be fair, she doesn't smile at anyone anymore.

And that is funny and my laughter sounds foreign to my ears, and it echoes through the hall and it shatters the silence into a million tiny shards, and every single one launches itself at me and I dive and I roll, and the pictures scream, and the green, red, green, red, brown door slams and no one jumps.

And I think, perhaps, I'm going, going, gone a little mad, and maybe I should sit down and shut up but I wasn't talking and!

Somewhere a phone rings, a dog barks and a baby cries, and a girl lies there gathering dust.

And I want her. I want her. I want her. I want her. iwanther.

And it's the end of the world, does anyone know? I should phone the news stations! The forecast for the day? Horsemen, and blood, and doom and ohgodwe'reallgonnadie. I'd ring my mother, but I can't remember my name.

And the cracks in the ceiling spell out words no one can read.

There's pills in the kitchen. I know there's a reason, and that's why they have to go. I throw them in the fish tank, and all the little fishes roll over and come to see the sky, and I think to myself how I'd like to be a fish.

Yes, I'd like to be a fish. I'd be the biggest fish in the world, and I'd eat all the little fish, and the fishermen too, and when I swallow the world all of the world will be a part of me.

There's a mirror in the bathroom, it isn't broken.

There's a mirror in the bathroom.




And there she is, right there, and she's here and now and there's big black circles round her eyes that nobody drew.

And the cracks in the ceiling form constellations.

And maybe it's beautiful. But maybe isn't good enough. Maybes never good enough. No, no one likes maybe. And maybe maybe hates itself for that. But just maybe.

And there's a million different words swimming through my head. A million different things to say. A million differnet endings to a million differnet stories. A million of hello, goodbye, yes, no, why, how, where, how whywhatwhenwhowherehowwhywhowherehowwhenwhatwherehow.


I can see my word swimming through the hair, forming in the mirror, falling form her lips, twirling through the oxygen. It dances towards the constellation ceiling, and it takes the fish with it when it leaves.

And oh god, she's beautiful. Even though her hairs a mess, and even though the black circles under her eyes are tattooed on my psyche and even with the mud and the blood and the... Mud? Where...?

And oh... Oh.

I reach out to stroke her, to touch her, to feel her, to hold her. And all I stroketouchfeelhold is glass. She's not there! She's never there!

And I hit her, and all that's left is yet another broken mirror.

Another broken mirror, a million different words. I spew a thousand different names onto the tiles of the bathroom floor tattoo, and I write them on the walls in blood and erase the trace of the thousand names that came before.

And oh!

I could have any of my million different endings, and not one would be happy. Cause my princess lives in mirrors, and I can never be quite sure if she's wearing my face or if I'm wearing hers.

And sometimes I draw us both a bright red smile, but it always washes off in the rain, and it leaves a red stain on the carpet. And it'll never be quite the same.

It'll never be the same again.