Here.

Here is where it all stops, the ache to be like others.

No one compares here.

Things not good for him outside this space, flower into gardens of himself.

Here, he knows he can rest,

Here, where the robots and organisms he loves

Meet and dance, And dream between the bells that spell midnight,

Where there is no one to like or be like,

Here, he is repeatedly born.

Here, in his place of sex and gender,

He knows herself.

This is where his head stops shooting stars.

Right here — where his real-dreamt lady lies,

Humming his susurrus song.