I am so finite, I continuously end.

To begin, I have not dreamt in quite a while.  

Wearing knee highs and chain smoking, my best friend is a computer.

There are other, better friends inside the computer.

The computer holds them and provides my only access. 

Small box of thoughts leading to a black hole or a sliding board.

Technology theorist communique.   

At night, I go out in the yard and rescue the roses from the cold air.

It hurts my skin.

I cannot imagine what it does to a rose.

I hung them like a crown of thorns over the dining room chandelier.