The Miles Further From the tracks MakeThe crucifixionSeem Like an obsolete Stream of obscene Stupidity. It all becomes hazyOn this pillow; Surrounded by candlesAnd The harmonizationIs a fleeting Intricacy That floats delicately Across the palms of my open hands. My ears sip the sleek night;I see the starsInside A near-stranger's Eyes. And the mysteryReminds me that I am Real.