swimming above

i am a key
and he is the tumblers.
we fit together perfectly,
mathematically,
a well thought out algorithm.
our unity unlocks a door to a room,
bright and pulsing.

this town smells like life
and before i must leave again
i breathe it all in out the window.
i watch the beauty in the street lights as the sun fades
and observe spacious farms and fields,
and houses that intrigue my eyes so much.
the pavement and dirt beneath my naked feet even feels so right
and the river rushing constantly is a perfect lullaby.
demons flood the streets
but their humor is so kind
that i can't mind.

his face in the artificial navigating light
proves even more beautiful
than when its bathed in florescent.
when i wordlessly murmur against
blood-ridden, thin skin,
the opposite of rigor mortis occurs
and all rigidity drains from me
and i become mush.
his entire essence impairs me
and all i can do is want,
but the feeling is so indescribably perfect
that i can't complain.

suffocating under nihilism is unimaginable now,
he gives meaning to everything.