there's a sound
humming beneath my fan,
layered, and bitter
it blends into those backgrounds,
backgrounds that I create
from my nothing-sense of everythings-
considered concrete and so forth,
but-
We are sorry to interrupt-
you say though,
that it's more
slender legs taunting
on high heels,
hidden dreams and obvious fantasies,
of which I'm----
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're back!
too brain dead to argue
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