In this isolation there is no sound

In this isolation there is no sound only light and quiet fury

This warmth of your love, this sudden heat... can I withstand it? Can I fully re-experience warmth when I've only known cold?

The racoon king... he claws at himself desperate to escape his own skin

A technological landscape so complicated and over-built Not one person understands how it fits together Until a tiny fracture undoes it all

This joy! Sweet how of the autumnal air Lights filtering through trees A blissful quiet Only pricked by birds' sweet sounds Why does reality not allow this to last forever? Is it that transcendental fricative of our life? This blur This transition? This friction between states? The wind howls at us As the earth tilts And the blankets of air stubbornly stay in their course Funnelled by the sharp ridges of concrete and glass Pelted upon bypassers with gray coats Why do they receive this fowl discourse?