the famished specter,
I had not known.
A quality
I could not identify
with eyes more open,
gradually
separating
reworking the true fluid form
of transmission.
Large swells
indicate waves of visual crescendos
crashing inside a collective
television.
Creating deep elaborate passage ways through individual channels,
"surf" your desire
is to nourish it,
let it take you to a place where all things are passed,
where the un carved stories take their course.
To not fear the reciprocated being
staring through the monitor
into destiny,
changing the direction of the voyage
into the uncharted
inheritance.
I can only lend so much attention
to the feedback,
a trick inside the self,
appearing to continue on
forever.
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