love found and lost in this box.

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our scarlet liquid pumps divided by multiple question
here the shadows lay in symbols of confused confession
who's to say that passion equivelates to unboundedness
the number eight tipped over to its side is limitless
stale like a bike missing a wheel unable to ride
the image presented tells only half only its side
only hands can tell where unexplainable dimensions lay
but not the hands that told me what time it was today
the sense of a thousand swords by my crimson interior
its noticed by my brain casket showing to be inferior
this moment in time what is there for me to execute
a hypothesis that will release me from my birthday suit
inhaling this atmosphere deep into my lungs like cancer
finding within ones self eyes to the sky a fallen answer
take 1st place in this race to the source of blood
fertilize the core with my passion and create a flood
a seat i desire at the peak of this mountain i try to climb
there at the top, i will wallow for i preserved my absent dime



still searchin' for the meanings.