Can I question the rooting stitches of clockwork?
With every poke and pull it drains faint locked words,
But does art remain if dust is thrown and paint chipped?
Tallies kept by pastel white dead windows skipped,
Rumbling frames whisper minuscule scents of study,
Will heart tinted honey roses make me lucky?
A lens casts shadows by speaking pictures unmatched,
But even it gets lost when hugs come attached,
And I tied a string to yin and yang with hopes for photos,
This circle sings into my skin how to stop the solo.

Hands of the random lie to the wind, cycles feast,
Numbers auction off spelling to unify heart beats,
Everyone trades sparks to impress perpetual absence,
Meanwhile I flirt with gates but I'm never the fastest,
And this ray has taught me to find nutrients in looks,
See this ray I know well cause I see him when I'm shook,
Stagnant gazes draw out maps to find what given gives,
We get that love and hate fight in everything that lives,