Minds over what matters
rules swelling rocks
that erupt this blink term
crumbs littering the corners of my sight
admitted to a passion so bleak
My thumb holds more
than this reception heals
more than it reaps
less than it sows
there's no hands for hire
I want to feel something real
wary at four in the morning
or at night
when the records come on
opening files and folders
ripping deep in sensation
as this shakes my state