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Apparition Zeta-43
This is an alien transmission
from deep inside your space.
A wooden clock that ticks
inside a steel beam prism
that senses, when you
breathe the monolith.
Make this right, circle round
back again, give me
the cyclops eye
to see this one
through.
Here we go
firing all cylanders
the nexus
of beginning
of new spaces.
A few stars in a pocket,
the ghosts wandering
through your arms,
don't you remember?
The specie unknown
that traces over your
fraility in forms.
Divlugence in fractions.
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