how do i reconcile my warmth with my machinery?
mechanical contraption checking the boxes
poet longing to form a beating heart with only words

the colder parts of me suggest i have some sort of surgery
creativity can be threaded to the bone with stitches

the softer places whisper in my ear a cure of sugar and cinnamon
logic is only an imagined intention

but i feel the pendulum swing
and it stops not for compromise