My all-out abandon, the light stumbling.
My fate is this way. I guard against everything.
All wound up like a spring with gold filigrees,
it escapes by other vents, a sudden missed heartbeat.
The background of a midnight conversation.
Little to me and you, small worried indignation.
Remaining only mouths like Braille to the sighted,
our words can't rest on them, the burden never lightened.