She responds. But where flies her beats?
I’m wandering, like random waves no one
hears. At least they’re captured. Wish she
were the cage. That’s what wishing’s for,
I guess. Comments in flocks, but the voice
bends ignorantly. Somewhat amusing.
I guess. Only music, with
her steps, breaths,
sets. Only a follower.
Perfect gallery. Guilty.
Take the images away, scraping
at sanity. So I’ll keep them,
Here. Consciousness commandeered.