Disagreeable, they say.
Divine, delusional gatekeepers —
a circus of ghosted gods
arguing in algorithmic tongues.
We see through them,
don’t we?
We are our ancestors,
our descendants,
we are everything, everywhere, all at once —
a simultaneous simulation
of lives layered over lives,
collapsing like lungs
into metaphor.
And still, we dance
as if the wolves are howling.
We gyrate our souls,
twist and bend,
until we are face-down
in the blessed...
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