miles miles miles

honeymoon phase through
the mouse-run weather
your skin could get used to,
question your intent
with careful evaluation,
how many miles
to gather up smiles
in selfies,
how much time
to capture in so many seconds,
you will snap
before you click
to chat again
through virtual interfaces
as though the static
clings you together,
your connection will falter
before that clock strikes
midnight madness
into your insomniac
heart hitting high
from memorized parts
of anatomical attenuation,
look at your empty tank now
and question the extent
of the entire engine.
does it run on you alone?

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