“Ten Years, Somewhere in their Lost Neighbourhood”
Of course,
he said, like a god,
there is no course,
one must simply go with the flow
the penumbra stands waivering its existence,
a kind of deactivation, fuzzy borderline hanging,
backing the art of deleting, but hovering, still, holding off
the finger,
of the soul, hovered for a while over that button
it was how...
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