Electronic feudalism
dominates discussion
that ought to
discuss the prevalence
of tumors or blood
clots,
but instead it is
strained with LCD
awkwardness and
unpleasantness crept
upon these chimed, monochromatic
pings—static—
lust confused for
as love, when a
solitary figure knows
himself less than those
who transfix upon
this pretension because of
a discontent and personal unwillingness
to love love,
even though lust lust
never occurred,
except
in its more stunted,
sickly form, as
hidden behind that
fine mesh made of
plastic and liquid.
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