Sailing on furniture with eyes broken by knowledge whispered from you Caroming the walls of my somber-depth bemusement park trowel of a soul I will ask you all of the things walked by in nature; there is no listening I won't do For the treasures that can be absorbed and not mapped Scarved by the sigils of falling into the dearest flames We all have years piled on by the universe, but mine are yours without condition Feast or famine, shawl or stripped of armor: This space will be held as we swim onward Between the shores of memories and pleasure in brushstrokes of an epochal portrait Cutest in each second, you are the reason and the hook to this life Of irony by the minute, ordered in declension of how knowing all along There is no hour I won't fill with your silhouette upon my daydreams