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petrichor  –  archive
  • Broken Machine Intolerance

    June 9th, 2024

    Samples, bunk-bed
    Chargers that had wooden
    Stilts I treated like slats
    To enoughish
    I put houndstooth crawlers in my walls to
    Hold up what you think if
    For gummy candy.

    Those little kids fishing on piano keys
    Wished for much more out of life
    Strife, Adversity, some fight, some conflict within myself
    Merely became an Art Form
    Then Algorithm.
    Now it’s Genre-Less and the Math
    Is
    Always.Chaotic.

    I sold you serenity for roasted chestnuts when I froze
    Some mountain yelled and came and got me out
    The glacier.
    The dust killed my smell ages ago
    And somehow
    Your flighty fragrances remind me of my
    Expansive conceptual-like Home.

    Gutter, trash, sewer, mud, waste.
    I choose to sample that in flasks and turn them to heat;
    Then suddenly you’ve met.

    The Raindance Recycler..

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