dont believe in magic
like pressure
A forest of levers
and their
potentiality
where
we are but
haunted bodies of
appetites
tangled in a static web
of power lines
heavy and transmissionless
above our heads
connecting living rooms and telephones and empty t.v.s
to emptier outlets and sockets and chords
all entangled
in toadish homes
under ugly broken trees
to more
gray paved networks
of unknown neighborhoods
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