Pieces of Orange

One. Two. Once more. Only.. that's enough. I'm afraid you'll catch on. Catch on to my little distraction. Almost defective. I've become immune to distractions. Or maybe just these. No. None seem to be working. The only thing I can count on is escapes. Escapes without people. Without judgement. Without walls. Escapes that can no longer lead to childhood. Crossed out. Crossed over. Crossed behind my back. I still remember. Only. It seems to have slipped your mind. Or maybe that's just me. I'll admit, I too had forgotten. It's the only way I can get through this. Forgetting. Forgetting you. You and your tricks. Your lies. Your.. My lack of trust. It seems the one mistake was forgetting. If only. If only I had remembered your actions. Your words. All repeated. Same time. Same order. Could have predicted. Could have prevented. The Quiet Syndrome. Welcome. It's all falling into place. Or. Rather. Out of place. Everything is falling apart. Drifting away. I'd rather you stayed. Right where I can see you. Every day. Any day. Only just simply to be. To express and expose. Or. Fine. But you know that trick. You know exactly how it works. But. That's okay. I know another. Another word to hide behind. Okay. Additionally shifting. Only. You tend to ask questions. Questions I can't always answer. At least not without breaking. Breaking down. Into pieces. Pieces of orange. Pieces that cannot be ignored. Pieces that I will try to hide. Try my very best. To push aside the truth and slip on my vaguely familiar suit. Not a way out. But a way of extending. Extending the time between breaks. Between falls. Between buildups. Buildups and breakdowns. That is where you'll find me. Discretely jumping. Avoiding. All around and all around you. It's the only way I know. It's the only way I can hide and never be found. You'll never open the door. You'd never think to look there. The thought will never cross your mind. And when it does. Don't worry. I will already have disappeared.