Hold and listen,
Something is missing from the celluloid;
Where actors, permissive,
Hold their positions in pixels to blur the lines between
The real and the scene.

We steal the motion from the act,
Picturesque in photographs;
Where all of my dreams suddenly to sate
(All the dreams that fall between the frames within a film)

Have we been exposed?
Developed for sale and show?
We isolate the things we can't keep our eyes from.

Are you so alone?
You're in too soon to know,
You fold.

I'll trade my youth for white lights
And black suits