It is odd, the way we speak
No one else would approve
Definitely not understand.

How we not stop
after we stop making sense

And how there are
Freudian slips
colours and shapes

How things will be taken
to unexpected heights
or be
completely disregarded

And how we never know
the outcome of this toss

But both the frays
of the abandoned strings
and patterns of the knitted ones

Become a tinge of you
In me

And a reminder
That the walls are always permeable
things will diffuse in
things will diffuse out
Until we reach stability.

Our stability of a firework.