With all the locks secured, having noticed my security, a voice whispers and life becomes complete.
Fleeting words, passion tumbles from the ceiling. With epiphanies, little rooms left bare for my own discoveries. The life of rhythm is disrupted. A new medicine for use in moderation.
A guitar, fragile with echoes of perfection.
But what else is there to keep?
A sunset fades and a new line is born.
This is what we truly want. This is freedom and a chance for options.
Xyz.
Consequence sings and I sleep.
My mask becomes me and we wake. But is there something else?
Complete with losing my mind before the moments find you.
Two songs play in the kitchen and my choice remains unsung.
Heros rush in and civilians wake.
Peace moves toward the light.
A silk blouse for the funeral. Only to fall far down the grave.

With a gift I move forward and destroy myself.
A beating of youth'youth's innocence.
The curve shivers and cradles this loss in rigid angles.
Doorknobs above this plane twist and turn in strange resonance.
Light removes our square from its rest.
The curve remembers this and falls in haste. Searching for new ground.

A page turns. A movement is born.

This hole opens. Chambers become themselves thrice over.