We open ourselves—
vast, porous vessels—
in empty embraces
and delectable revels.
It’s an easy fix
to triggering the brain,
lighting it on fire,
It is a patchwork of tethering
with peering holes and fractured fissures,
We fill it with lonely together-ing,
debauchery, and easy pleasures.
The mirror of introspection
is a silent killer—at least in brief.
But, the act of refusing to do so
is an indefinite, lifelong thief,
stealing your very self from you—
authentic, rooted, and profound.
If you cannot stand in silence,
you can never deal in sound.