  The loftiest altitude of I is Me. Thus together, We are greased and pumping like an organic turbine of emotion. Our ideals mesh around the gears and springs of our warm circuit boards. Illuminated by green, yellow and red impulses. Your delicate features have burnt an image in the cavity behind my eyes. I'm left with a bright projection of your beauty, scetched in the colors of a 3-D imagination. Without the glasses, crude and jagged lines. Blurred and strange to my eyes. Whymsical. But nothing without the glasses. 
