I always find myself right here,

black coffee swirl into the rosetta

eye of the storm equals eye of the single format.

This hologram is getting old, the dust tickles my nose,

and opens my other eyes.

How many more times will I awake in this spiraled dream journal written with a box forming pen?

Round the boxes’ edges to find singularity is easy and natural at once,

hard and misleading without visual arousal.

Break a black hole in the eye of the crema,

ingest the infinite jest of the moment’s universe.

Happy to learn the logic of the day once again via the consumption cycle, EYE EYE>

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