and so i stopped for a minute - i stopped and stood still and let time or pass or run out a lot soone rthan i can or i will - and i could give a fuck about voices or pictures or what we've known or what we've said cause it's all wrapped up in stars or stripes or left to awful dreams inside my head - i'm failing to understand what i've never looked for over a shoulder - all the while overstepping the obvious, falling short of shame - putting my hand over my heart but forgetting it's name - my finger's on the pulse - and though this pen writes we still live in a world waiting to be writte