The jeweller's hands

Fiendish wonder in the carnival's wake. Though it caresses once again irritate. Tread softly stranger, move over toward the danger that you seek. You think excitement has receded and the mirror distracts. The logic of the trance quickly reaches and grasps. Handsome and faceless. And weightless, your imagination roams.

And now it's no ones fault but yours at the foot of the house of cards. You thought you'd never get obsessed. You thought the wolves would be impressed. And you're a sinking stone. But you know what it's like to hold the jeweller's hand: that procession of pioneers all drowned.

In the moonlight they're more thrilling, those things that he knows. As he leads you through the grinning, bubble blowers in the snow. Watching his exit is like falling off the ferry in the night.
The inevitables gather to push you around, any old voice makes a punishing sound. He became laughter's assassin shortly after he showed you what it was.

And now it's no ones fault but yours at the foot of the house of cards. You thought you'd never get obsessed. You thought the wolves would be impressed. And you're a sinking stone. But you know what it's like to hold the jeweller's hand: that procession of pioneers all drowned.

If you've a lesson to teach me, I'm listening, ready to learn. There's no one here to police me, I'm sinking in, until you return. If you've a lesson to teach me, don't deviate, don't be afraid. Without the last corner piece I can't calibrate, let's get it ingrained.