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

TASK

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

colors

Raineater

Eclipservent

Keta