One Half Of You

Anonymity in the you
Spinning in the simplicity

Of nothingness
A chalkboard slate
Judgement in the rendering
An empty set
Here to judge

Tuna from a tin flaking
Purposefulness manufactured
Yet in the blowing wind
Purposelessness on the breeze
I need the wind to sweep into me
I need my sail filled
My smoke to waft on the distance

Isolation in the existence
Sanity on the wane
Oblivion as attraction
Dissolution as hope
The machine sputtering
The motor oil oozing
The mechanism halting