Cadavers still warm I picked those words,
Stained hands of taken thoughts.
Fragmented but sewn with fibres of introspection.

But like a patchwork so many relived from
Ending last moments before that which
Remembered rendered as blank as fresh paper.

An algorithm flawed, not a single, not self-contained,
But singular was each taken.
Word independent  from each other perceived letters

Spelling in the crack a splinter of a memory or motion
Now void of its other parts. Sewn together this piece
Written with others conceived words.

I had taken them fresh given them new purpose to
What would have otherwise faded like a breeze
Never felt again.  Now I will use as my own.