These doors close in
and quickly I'm singled out,
lost and locked out of
the frown you swam under,
trapped pieces under my skin.
Look where the world is,
tripping over bullet holes
and smoke shows guiding lights
in your lies.
Hype is the final touch,
describing how inverted
your theories truly are.
Let's start killing it,
let's throw a fit.
Hints that twist
my soluble mind fabric and
knit something useful 
from the scraps.
Past due, 
you're all out of luck but
the truth isn't easy to find.
Hide me in your mind.