Making all the sense to me.
Churning at the flight of bonds once bold and strong.
Finding no rest behind my eyes, within the box, atop the globe, afloat in the fringe.
Suction cupping to a wet surface,
gripping failing too slight to notice.
Virtual reality addiction passing time and blendered into the gray world of productivity.
Tremendous power recorded in the tiniest of means exploding through portals of moments.
Such chaos muffling my Source's hold.
The hands blocking my view from the ocean.
I smell You.
You are so near.
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