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Loading up my black mirror Skinner box to feel connected
Growing in the recesses craft horrors have recollected
Knowing when the tendrils attach more ascend to deck and
Burrow with an aim to enact order and stay infected.
Preying on desire with cracked swords a solemn gesture
spills aboard aloft an impactful throne of sordid fester
None adorn a thwarting reaction as a suit of armor
Gunning for the floor the distraction of a warring vessel.
Thunder isn’t half of the problem pouring ocean water.
Nothing but an echo, the past it seems was scarcely special
Wonder if the grip will relax if I can paddle harder
Sunder every bridge in a gasp for the forgotten nestle
Covered up in plastic, ******* thinks he’s just a farmer
Wonder when the bones in my back will feed the mortar pestle.
Fumble with a weapon enraptured in the frozen water
Doesn’t change the fact that the ******* on another level
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