The Hills

Feet build integrated chess matches,

As the walls close into the signs of whats happening,

Foreign to this adversary are the violets in trinity,

Nights of lineage, days of centuries,

Houses vacant into echoes that empty,

Circuit of cities pulsing anything,

Digital conversations in the meadow of the mesh,

Picnicking the bridges toil of the dance,

Dumps of snow slump in my pants,

I cant help but wait,

Pouring to all of those I wake,

Practical windows tear apart,

Inclining caution outside the results,

Spoiling the drive she dreams to come up.