game break and point one

Through marrow halls I am lurking, hearing the drumming boots, the hob-nail creaking, as I am creeping into time indefinite and spending an instant in quiet adulation of the mirrors on the ceiling that mock me in my self, in my silent effort to hide the fear in my eyes, where I am alone, in the knowing, in the ways, in the after thoughts, and arousing dreams that happen when no one is paying attention, but their guilt burns you deeply, and I cannot see your face, but I know you like it, the writhing and the rocking, the bones near the surface and the bruising of the skin, in this land of men without women.