More to want (and to feed seeds in need)

Frosty edamame and

everybody's hands are perforating the air conditioning, and what is supposed to offer our lungs less stifling time.

We are destructive in our minds and constructive in our dreams.

The water before us is separating with the commands of the wind.

There are no major powers in our responsibilities. We have decided to watch the lights turn from white to rainbow.

One says he found an answer and

one says he let his go

by accident or for wanting scars.

Scars that I don't physically supervise.

There's another one present, and he cares for green glass.

I for glitter.

Here comes decor for the rest of your remaining mindful times.

And more dusty electronics for you to obtain.

The music said we had minds, that fly, that strain, of somebody else,

minds that are critical in every moment.

The dust is for you to dream about when I am negatively charging.

Going minus in degrees of both Fahrenheit and Celsius,

supporting the metric system,

and showing conversions from time, to space, to longitude.

But we agreed to disagree and disagreed to agree,

worried a little more,

worried a little less, and

fell asleep to wake up to a view

that turned out to have the most sacred of silences known to these thousands of feathers

under which I am forever covered at night.