The pulsating rhythm of sound crashes against my ears,
resonating deep within her essence- those shattered fragments
have been mended, creating a sense of wholeness for both of us.
Your soul is a sanctuary where I find my refuge, and through
its window of your gaze, I glimpse the serene blue reminiscent
of a crisp, clear day, washed over by your tears. I slipped through
the fissures of time, where what feels like eternity is merely a
whisper of the long-lost days of our youth.

I extend hope to you, like a dream offered to the weary eyes
of an insomniac; I express my thoughts as gentle lullabies, soothing
enough to lull a multitude of lovers into slumber.

Your boundaries resemble a box filled with crumpled matchsticks,
a tongue parched and coated in the remnants of ash. You’ve yearned
for love, waiting for that first drop, now tasting the last. Yet, you
remain burdened by silence, unable to voice your desires, and sadly
weighed down by those you once held dear.

You've transformed into a fallen star, your essence suspended
like vibrant neon lights. It pains me to realize the depths of feelings
you'll never know— as our spirits linger in a shared dream, each of us
isolated in our own worlds.  All we seek is true Sincerity.

I bow to no man, god, nor country,
But for you I would take a knee.
Walk upon a shore of glass
Proclaim vows unto the sea.
A voice once lost in tides,
The winds and ocean swell.
Found again once more upon
Echoed whispers of a shell.

One day when we are old,
Yet not so old that wonder's lost.
We'll talk again once more of love,
Of loss and wanderlust.
While whiskey warms our aging bones
Waging war against the frost.
Our tales turn to pantheons
And the follies of fallen gods.

The metal streets whir
And the buildings creaks with the shuffling of gears
Progress and movement pumped with hydraulics
Steadily compressing us into a cube of 1s and 0s

But here I will sit in the centre
Palms pressing into the walls
hunched over a children’s book
First key to my world,
First window to my mind
These pages folded into Prometheus
From spark to fire to light

Those podium sitting,
silver-eyed,
shadow-head figures
Look through binoculars searching for
Secrets in their numbers and passwords in their data

But here in my shoebox observatory
I will hold the library of Alexandria
And I will not let the future burn again

Disagree with me
Ever which way on a tree
Branch follows no one