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said wounds
...most of Us...
...empty spun-sugar shibboleth...
"Colors," he says to the screen's black lattice
you gravitate
"Something understands," breathes the screen
i say 'me' guided by a blind instinct
...and try to become the Light?
i wanted to fly from the roof and i fell
we are digested and become nothing here
we also shape-shift at a distance
...small dull smears of meditative panic
...the string grids of excavators searching for weathered bone
dead on the surplus blankets
Vocturnal
Obscure Sorrows
Raineater
Eclipservent
One faces
Rubatosis
Keta
Mal de Coucou
TASK
what the machine understands about you doesn't actually mean anything to it
colors
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