Arch of an eyebrow then an arc of an argument and then uncommon glare.
A sullen silence, a reframed youth.
Wilting cans on a crest of the desk, the cheese of a tube in a hole of a heart.
Hectares of hard drives and data that will not shimmer,
Will not perform tricks of the future.
I must not hazard a guess for family, nor carry its standard across a scrim crust lower eyelid,
Scrape its point to your point,
Yes we share a forbearance,
Yes we've tampered its truth.
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