you gravitate

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

...and try to become the Light?

we are digested and become nothing here

i wanted to fly from the roof and i fell

Vocturnal

palpate

...small dull smears of meditative panic

Rubatosis

...the string grids of excavators searching for weathered bone

Obscure Sorrows

Mal de Coucou

-but uh well you see sputter of burning insect wings-

TASK

what the machine understands about you doesn't actually mean anything to it

colors

I Am\Never Was

Raineater