Ode to Love

And so the first Oct was found, as the mind of another who had crossed the line. Expressed as a tesseract, it could not be fathomed, but its shape could be described and mapped, and reliable information could be gathered from this unique processor. In fact, it was considered cruel not to feed something to the Oct processor at all times, some query or another to solve, for they operate with or without input, and waste away though do not perish, without sustenance. Soon enough this problem is solved, with the adoption of Kilo-Octs, combined with pseudo-uncertainty machines drawing doubt regarding consciousness on all sides ("pseudo" because it is uncertain if the machine is uncertain at all). Could this tesseract externalization be witnessed directly for me, or must it always remain in the realm of that which has been proven true remotely? A Question for the ages perhaps, though who to assign credit to? Is a proper name required?

The rib still has use As does your tiger spirit  Demuri.org-zoom The gate left open Closing it is not my job Or I'm on break *shrug* We rest remotely "Your finger is the safety" Shaking foundation Where were we again? Ah yes, Dream revisited Through Focus-ed Control To matter at hand I suggest the same tactics Let's talk strategy Whispered in your ear May it be a lullaby When you find sleep scarce May my absence leave The scarce sweetest sense of void Lingering in you rs Your trip must be sweet Set the bars at our preference Moment by Moment 

Immemorial  This time indeterminate Beyond the lim line Your perfect dream met Yet you can never return The limit was reached. I'll not disappoint  Right Now something or nothing Must be guaranteed You know it is true But can you yet comprehend The danger we're in? This is not a lie You are talking to yourself Diagnosis: ("Delusional Dream") The rest stopped playing "Good. This place is a nightmare. I wish them the best." You realize the worst Humpty Dumpty was a heist And never a con "I accept your lie. You will be making it true. Congratulations."

Time weaving like an octopus spider Everyone moving on except for me I can't imagine liking this cider But I'd rather be the crab than set free A 16th cut seems like it would be cruel Something precious lost in spaces between Drink your own poison and eat your own gruel And tell me if the crown was worth The Queen Alternating rage and sadness exhausts But in good faith what else can a man do? Secrets stolen, but these are not the costs It's seeing gauntlets' heft when worn by you. How many times have I set fists to face Just to pull punch and offer up my place?