I want in.

I want in.

In on your consciousness

what makes you tick

float

fly -

fall.

I wanna know

exactly

what fucks you uop

so that you'll stand there

with the same dark look

on your face

as I've had in my heart

(if that's not too cliched)

for all this time.

I want in.

In on your mentality.

what burns you

hurts you

what brings tears

to those gorgeous dark eyes

I wanna make you cry

want to feel you tremble

and laugh softly in your ear

as I promise

between hard bites

and gentle kisses

that everything'll be all right.

I want that power,

that control.

I want in.

In on what makes mayhem

appear on that calm

(too calm)

exterior

what'll put chinks in the glass mask

end the facilitation

of this facade

(because I love the way that word looks)

what will return you

to regulation mode -

hit control and some combo of

computer keys

to fix this problem.

I want in.

In on the secret that you've been keeping

hiding

holding

like it's something you've never shared

before.

I want in

on the madness

the muchness

the mindless

that you spend your days with

tripping over glass-shod

skies

and pieces of plastic minds -

those people you can't stand to be around

to laugh around

exist around,

but who you fool around with

because you're good at it.

You're good at that game.

I can't play People to save my life

or yours

and I wouldn't.

I play secrets

and promises

and I play persons,

one being at a time,

each against himself

or herself

until she's in love with me,

worships me,

thinks the world of me

dies because of me.

When he's existing because I let him,

give him enough confidence -

self-worth,

self-import

that he thinks he can face anything

as long as my words have got his back.

They wanted in.

But in on a scam

doesn't give the same

level of rush

as in

on what you think is real.

Not the same as the in

I want in

In on you,

what makes you fall apart,

because I want in

on the pieces you leave behind.