I'm on my way, today. Boxed up, retreated to my dismay. I don't like this room. Stench of smoke, stale booze perfume. Cut at the knees, again. Packed in, defeated and shedding skin. I am exposed and been stored and secreted to my chagrin. There's nothing in this room. No myths left here to exhume. What you deserve when you a**ume you're safe up on the tightrope. I'm on my way, today