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that crap coffee,
work
lunch at the diner
come on
whine a little more,
the door that's locked
the profiles that are blocked
the things we can't see that are
hidden from you and denied to me
cute girls with obtuse angles
the way your hair tangles up
another crap cup of coffee,
blame it all on the algorithm,

if it gets you through the day
even if it's wrong
do it anyway.

I went fishin' and caught
fifteen plastic bags
blamed it on the algorithm.
Searching for Galileo,
    the race to be first home,

In a sea of patients
    we climb the probability tree,
    walk upon the shore collecting
      memory shells,

We win the little wars,
     lose the big fight,

These windows are breathing apparatus,
     this ceiling, a blur of tungsten sky,
     rain, tears, weep,

To rest near to you,
     the technicolor sleep,
     and I died with you,

All farewells are sudden.
 Aug 2 Riz Mack
Aslam M
Sometimes,  
Sometimes most of the time,  
I feel nothing.  
Nothing at all.

No joy or sorrow,  
No rise or fall,  
Just a quiet void,  
A distant, hollow call.

Emotions fade,  
Like shadows on a wall,  
Leaving only echoes,  
Of nothing at all.

I search within,  
For something to hold,  
But find only silence,  
A story untold.

Sometimes,  
Sometimes most of the time,  
I feel nothing,  
And let the stillness fall.
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