Pacifists and Computational Tanks

When the day met you on the other side,
It was with warmth and a memory in storage.
The sky turned into a boundless vineyard
And the sun crushed grapes against your perfect skyline.
The cityscape began to remelt into the river the was reborn
As a promise you had sworn to yourself in sun-dried naïveté.
So you felt compelled to do it once again
Under the trusses of your fading consciousness.
You plucked your ribs apart, still somewhat in tune
And pulled that warmth in that never felt too soon.