I have two mouths and a throat, an interstellar road. To use me is to destroy me, at least, that's the theory.

I’m something you can copy perfectly, yet the original never disappears. I get smaller when you compress me, but smarter when you train me. I live in layers, travel in packets, and die when corrupted. People argue whether I should be free.

I start when you close, to track that which you hold. A stores system is not complete without me, as you don't know how many you hold. So go and count, each item must match, that from the corporate overlords.

I dance in the angles where right turns abide, Where the square of the long is the sum of the side. A name lost in centuries, yet still I remain, A theorem unspoken, yet known through the strain.

I sound like I'm a man who's been kissed by the sun. I'm featured in a subject many consider unfun. Our paths will not cross, but we'll meet at one. Oh by the way, do you like puns?