multiple chances on one ticket, and who can believe, now more than error, there are fewer winners. i think about loss because i’ve already had the benefit of doubt’s alarm. influence is a form of anxiety, and i’ve been pried by eyes that were disappointed being thwarted in prospects for surprise: i bear prophylactics, prosthetics, but no spectacle. yeah, life must be easy when you can buy shoes to match your shirt: yellow, white, yellow, like a layered dessert. decadence doesn’t come in my size: it assumes i’ve had enough, that my arches (top and bottom) are beyond support. i will need a dentist soon though i’ve given up the canned happiness years ago—my joy is now too expensive and can’t be capped with benzoate salts. bases are allowing my teeth to flee—they can’t stand this sinking ship, trying to tell my brain to follow suit. maybe i have dispositions, but in the time being i only see the dissolutions. every time a bell rings, a thought is lost, so let loose those chimes so that—for the first time in history—the strong of mind can survive, instead of the bandits strong of arm.