The only part I could ever play

Was poetic disarray

But without the poetry

Kneeling on the floor

In a pale neon light

Looking for the piece of me

I lost along the way

It can't be far, I hardly venture from this place

In the basement of existence

Dwelling with those thoughts

Armed with time and patience

The ones with one-way tickets

To darker days

The ones whose reality frays

Yet stays more real in many ways

Than the one that the writers

Of our collective story portray