Last ocean & blue
sky. Beachcombing
robots
supercede us long
after we’re gone.
The segmented hoses
of their gentle arms—
violence is stoked
by hunger,
despair by thirst.
To take it all in,
like a steady stream
of irritating smoke.
Even under your skin
it’s still you—a million
little reactions you have
no idea about.
What does it even look like
inside your lungs?
To this day, still a mystery
to yourself & everyone else.
Mysteries sell
very well,
but not yours—unsolved
& with no apparent motivation.
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