shit

what is this new world,
where lines aren't there
and planes are planes
and every gesture means.

can't we be limp like piles,
gray and green and blue pieces
clumping to form a cloud
too airy to touch.

one keystroke means yes,
a 3 minute choke means no,
and where everyone is always,
always worried about motives.

when does it all fade
to reveal a landscape,
one riddled with dark breeze
or rippling waves, winking, winking.

and just, merely, say
there's just something about you
that makes me ache.

and just gesture that,
i'd rather be holding you,
than holding this paper.

and just finally admit,
we want to ache together
and we've always known that.