I.
Crease - remember
the old burn, fabrics
meddling the paper.
Lash-lined tangent
splits and flutters -
remember the old burn,
colors muddling the memory.
II.
In the future, everyone will be nameless for 15 minutes.
III.
What plastic-rimmed faith we must exhibit to perspire into each other, like deft maggots made of sugar. The bloom of filth might burst serenely, sublimely, muted and atomic.
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