i am golden and ancient, lacquered by memory and layered with history
a scene set to enrapture you, to chain you to a certain crescendo
a celebration of shared perspective
a harem of sorts
we are the neverenders, the outliers.
our lungs are full and eager,
refusing the geared regularity of this machine.
the stage and the lights created the illusion of intimacy, an inorganic nearness.
the great white whale of contentment eludes me