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~ < < < t i m e s w a p s > > > ~

^ ^ ^
game of repetition known as _A Loop_ or _Digitalised Delay_

Room with in a room, lookingthroughlenses of time spent between staircases glaring into buildings that do not belong to me. Nor you. Beds in which one seeks the like|ness of self. Creative. Non linear yet questionably relevant.Reality. Somewhat tangled non identifiable section ofinnardswhere buzz of frictionlives. Have wished for time to be gentle. When onesinksin brightly lit room with echo of voices. Pushing keys covered in blood sacrifice of self. sTill. Too present. You. By accident. Or chance. Somehow. In yet another bed. This time with mattress too hard. Reminds me of gaps filled and those that failed to do so. All that this body has occupied by accident. < Moments Before >
Washing feet levitating on the balance point in an oddly stretched position. Catch glimpse of self in the mirror. Body twisted. Fingers trapped. Blood and charcoal in swirls likejamdripping on concrete floor. Hugging porcelain. Heavy. Ruini…

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