it's every time i think of writing you a letter, the organic perspective of y mechanical methods provokes me to lose my sense of balance and fall slowly towards the floor.
spinning in triptychs, i recite your words and realize that i havent been listening, so, what may i write if it's an inaccurate answer to what i thought you said.
...And i build the machine again, dripping sweat by the effort, with hope to continue something as sweet and organic like our words in a choir.
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