I take my straight lines and curve them for you,
Latching onto a tomorrow obscured from view,
'Cause as long as your empire towers over the days,
I'll mold to the ground to make this route one way.

My heart is matted for all your fist sized questions,
In a clean fashion, color coded answers are my defenses,
And my head twirls through volcanoes till it's desensitized,
A kind expression is all that your pleasantness comprises.

My memories are calenders unfurling with ink,
Cardboard supports my back for when the pages are flipped,
Hand gestures and one-word replies designed into loops,
So that the automatic reflexes start after a reboot.

Backgrounds have lost their intensities to a lone figure,
Every slip on a thin distraction calls for a trigger,
Stained-glass windows tell the story of a shadow in motion,
And the interior swears the remnants of a soul will never be awoken.

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