grief sharpens us
turns us into the ghosts we are
slap happy in the world
you can't survive living
i have adjusted my expectations around you
i have retrieved the significant bytes from previous dialogues
i have attributed values to the 1s and 0s used in each string
i have typed these symbols in the text box [$#!?]
i have anonymously answered three questions about myself
that only eternity can hold
i have become incoherent passive in the revolution
as predicted by television
i have telescoped my thoughts to the smallest diameter
i am winking at you across the borders of declension
have you had enough water today
right shift + control: delete your notions of absurd
it's taxing to be a poet
in baseball season. and without.
amidst a pandemic. or without.
we write about the moon.
but it's not like i really want
to end up alone there.
1 comment:
winking back
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