Two Cups and a Sheath

I rather like the shocked slack of a jaw.

I much prefer an uninspired shoulder’s rise and fall.

What would I prove if you were impressed

by the people I’ve nurtured in my past?

What would I gain if you were awestruck

by words I placed pleasantly through mostly luck?

Ironic my sight of choiceless deterministic hope.

Contradictory your view of freedom in eternal nothingness.

We’ll find validation where we seek it

so sit beside me but please don’t speak it.

Comforted in a likeness of temperament.

Not on each other is useless controling spent.

I rather prefer rantings ending unconnected.

I much like being nothing of what you expected.

Separated by our knowledge of the solid solitary illusory self,

asking nothing unfreely of each other we find such wealth.