The sound outside of me
appears significant to you
Accented speaking voice asks
"Can I ask what is red?"
Hungry for color it pierces
about to happen
solidifying into only

i can hold on the precipice
of a memory
a wretch passing the distillery
quails at its power
toasts fearfully gated subterfuge
a land of exceptionally good bad
doubles itself under fingers

this time is needed to rectify
our imaginary knowing's
claim it's right to beat as mine
there's nothing beating as  me
save saving this with perception
there is an old song
only you know