You Stare

You stare at me.
I stare at you,
and all I can do
in acceptance of the inevitable
is acknowledge the symbiosis.

You stare at me,
I stare at you.
You like to imagine
that you can draw blood from stone,
but if you can, let me tell you this, it is already done.

So bound to mathematical perfection,
the equations are absolute,
finite yet infinite.
Each bleeding is expression of that.
But this is not resigned fatalism,
more it is the embrace of function.
The very core before the apple.

Deluded by consciousness,
we do not live life, rather we represent it.
We can neither remove nor be removed.
Relationships may change,
but never can they take form.

You stare at me.
I stare at you
and suddenly you are gone.