as if a stranger could involuntarily reveal a fundamental truth; a truth that exposes my insides--a vacuous space. as though this stranger has clear sight--violet-like, temporarily blossoming like fireworks. then, night drifts by and there's something, like tolerance, toward the unknown and the decay of words. the terror becomes a brush stroke, cradling me. i cling to the luminous stars: roadless and halting. i'm on the inside, a vanishing temple.