Selective bugs in the memory chips, gnawing away at everything dear Palms up, show of faith, and a few remnants tasting of metal crawl into your hand
This is An offering
What I have lost I can't compute. What remains is ours now.
Miles and miles of a broken thread Stitched to the unfamiliar core
I'm trying, honest, I just need a thicker skin. So the puncture won't leave me. To die.
Ariadne's sleep shall not be disturbed. And the reel unfolds, fiction takes over. Let me find a way to you, through us, through screens of might and could and did not.
Reel me in. Bring us back. And so we gather here today. AndI witness you. In all your glory. Sleep and sound.