Art in exile

Magnetism

Art in exile
We tie our arms around them,
because we can never feel what they do.
We smother our friends as we fight for their essence.
We leave fingerprints as evidence.
Sea of invertebrates, spineless, coiled in comfort.
I forget how to connect, conditioned in the shade of grey.
We tie our arms around them,
because we can never feel what they do.
Contaminating the delicate balance,
We never give ourselves a moment to ponder.
Once was whole, once was not.
(Consumed by habit, defined by skin.)
Every move you make is manifold.
Everything you touch leaves an indentation.
Nothing is void in the equilibrium.
I never thought this could happen to us,
I thought we were different.
The decay of everything is beautiful,
I thought there was a purpose.
They tie their arms around us,
with their electric hold we forget.
Shocked out of the nightmares,
a rebirth of peace.
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