(sketch with hearsay)
long slow quick dive semiology
the mind rusts where quaint then seer linkage
you melt at a quiet
or at night fan out in the
shape of soldiers marching they say
it’s a peptide ‘cause then you won’t see
where the seams
pull apart to grin at a clasp’d conflict;
near to the moon
sea in the alphabet’s
a trigger, main recently they
walk to a foam molding
as in, manage to use industrial magic and darkness
as a rust belt buckles under the
lack of weight
every time
the fabric of reality folds
there’s a rip at the point
where words
leaving in the morning they said,
hey
lookit me
i’m floating
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