Our dead states and best conditions become null in the face of each other's prettiest nightmares.
Numbed fingers and downcast eyes are all that echo throughout the noise we make.
But we love. And we synthesize noises to feel something.
Screeching and howling all we hide to get past  a dead state to find better conditions.
Patterns ****** on xylophones but we can't look back.
But I know I'm worse off without you.
Frame me for anything. I'll give it all up for you.
Trapped but as free as I could ever feel or remember.