o peter parker, what you dont know

you were once a super hero in a mask to me

Sitting on the corner of the table/ Elongated and smooth/ From the years of figures, shapes and colours/ Drawn and splawn along the surface/ Of the shady top/ Those images jump and scream/ At the tops of their lungs/ To create and make a picture/ Of complete chaos and floss/ Of nothingness and perfect sense/ Sitting at the corner of the table/ Sharp and lingering/ The corner threatens to cut / More between us / As we dare out to make a move/ Those figures laughing / Every inch we move closer/ To falling apart./ They provoke and hope / That this fails and falls to nil/ Beneath the surface/ Of scratched deterioration/ Of creation created/ One more step made / In the opposite direction/ Diversion of device/ Is laid out clearly where / We see nothing but what we feel/ What we hope is actually real/ Your foot touches mine / They scream anger/ But yet not they do know/ For what is real / Is never shown