i say 'me' guided by a blind instinct
...most of Us...
...empty spun-sugar shibboleth...
"Colors," he says to the screen's black lattice
One faces
we also shape-shift at a distance
dead on the surplus blankets
"Something understands," breathes the screen
i wanted to fly from the roof and i fell
...and try to become the Light?
interregna
we are digested and become nothing here
palpate
...small dull smears of meditative panic
Vocturnal
Obscure Sorrows
-but uh well you see sputter of burning insect wings-
TASK
...the string grids of excavators searching for weathered bone
what the machine understands about you doesn't actually mean anything to it
colors
I Am\Never Was
Raineater
Eclipservent
Mal de Coucou