Flat Boxes
Flat Boxes  now stories
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francis_bede
francis_bede Author of Bad Clergy and other poetics.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
Their idols are what they feast on and it is instantaneous; These things they carry around like placentas; These wages of living; They stoop; They bow down; They cannot delete their burdens; Nor their birth into captivity; They watch over houses of pleasure; The remnants of their delight found in their mother's time; Carried for them in her womb; They lift

Flat Boxes

Their idols are what they feast on and it is instantaneous; These things they carry around like placentas; These wages of living; They stoop; They bow down; They cannot delete their burdens;

Nor their birth into captivity; They watch over houses of pleasure; The remnants of their delight found in their mother's time; Carried for them in her womb;

They lift their flat boxes to their noses, they eyeball them; They set them in a sitting place, and they sit there; the flat boxes hogging the space between them and the outer reaches of the Sun.

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