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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