Metapollo

I don’t suppose anything I can prove.

Involuntary motion made it true, yet nothing is real enough to use.

Will you be my meta-love?

Is any distance safe enough?

Dreamlike roles on a different tongue. Silent frames; you are the one.

Play it loud or pass right out.

There’s no one there to steal your shroud. 

And when sleep runs you cold, turn on that Face ‘til you feel whole.

My Metapollo, this is what of you I behold.

What shall become of us who never grow old?