(Death By Tap Shoes & Cigarettes)
(Prologue V)(Preservation Of An Atlas)

The future was a complexity we didn't often
care for, as we inhaled radio static
and braided our tongues
into promises and swears.

We were a mess
of manufactured fingertips that thought
distance was the space between our bodies
when breathing each others
exhaled oxygen wasn't enough.

Our concept of sustenance had always been
questionable — or so we were told by the mouths
of a flammable culture that said,

"the only way to fix something
is to tell it to stop."

But how could we? When
this was the closest we'd ever come
to mapping our thoughts.