A clicking dip draws the ragged
churl from a drawer to which,
for linkage sake, we are dependant
upon like gravity.
Stunts are cool too but if you
really want stupefaction
consider the clinking craw-wire
your robot uses to, ahem,
seal the deal.
In photo negative like horrors
from the past, a tricky embrace
and alien gestation prewires
my thinking on fear. I’m afraid
of the doorway, the lunch cavity.
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