Yorke

Lithium

Your echo is my sentiment.
You speak of resonance and depth,
your speech is dampening, 
and shallow.
Our memories filter the doubt,
and you can no longer push,
so I pull.
I win by default,
non compliance of request.
You quickly breathe out, 
so I can breathe in. 

Then, 
You are here. 
autistic,
a christmas day in July.