A vision that plays on infinite repeat
The glitch of omnipresence feasting on my last thread.
Sliding it through the fabric I once relied on
letting me know, finally, that no peace can come.

A vision of solitude, unlikely experienced together
Decisions of minutia - the last vestige of control
The words uncertain, but resolute; “Apple Dapples?”
They fight against a mouth unwilling

What can I do but listen to the clinks
as 8 imitations fall to their new home?
And can hopefully crawl their way into the stomach
of the most important person I’ll ever meet.

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