The vending machine dispensing dispersion
Fills notebooks, empties bottles
and sorts ghosts by opacity
Veracity assured as a tacit admission
Of terrible methods
Turn on the ray-tube
Rate another siren′s song
Decidedly decided wrong
And wrangle another thought
Into a usable shape
Block out the world and make a witch
It′s easy, really.
Seven stitches and a scar badly healed
Soon to tear the sun asunder
Scavenged spaceships barely used
Astronaut helmet and casual dress
eyes behind a screen again
Skin projected onto glass
Unravelatory observations
To destructively reason
and Reichenbach-fall to.
Get lost in the jouissance
When our hands turn translucent
Will we turn or keep fading?
Nothing but waiting
I′m dying to know.
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