impulse musics
under the nothing
made in my image
the infant
clones itself
to sleep.
I could go
for a glass of water.
a glass of nowhere.
really, spider?
all that work
the hand of god
under the nothing
made in my image
the infant
clones itself
to sleep.
I could go
for a glass of water.
a glass of nowhere.
really, spider?
all that work
the hand of god

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