we analogue to
what we touch the most
and i love to occupy
the spaces between
what we see and
how we say it
i do not try to
make sense of the
people that love me
lately i am thinking of
databases and spreadsheets
and the ocean of
our aboriginal unconscious
and how a single word can
touch everything and coat it
in oil like an offshore drill
and i remember not
giving a fuck about anything
but the thought of how
that cloud must have bloomed
in the gulf like a
carcinogenic rorschach test
and how beautiful that must have been
the unbalance of humours
blacke and cloying
it won't happen to me
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