The speed in which we run, divided.
The air we breathe, estranged to the point of choked.
Chasms to cross with no direction
Save the tidbit of attention thrown.
This world, morphed into moments to collect
Without regard for the depth of connection
For fear of vulnerable revelation.
A half-life, to be certain.
How precious the memories of treasured experience.
A curio of moving trysts,
Born from lusty, well worn feelings.
Stock sold, bought, and then traded.
The unlimited satisfaction stuck firm
In places where the heart and head roam
The sweaty psyche lives on,
Basking in earned memory.
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