Duct-Tape and Robots
Oh ill-linear life! Shall you remain to robotize the mind?
All machine parts; habitual havens to the unborn.
What a wormhole.
Poetry of the love deserves to be wrinkled and newly stained…
Not folded simply and buried in a duct-taped box. UNFOLD LIFE THROUGH THE NON-LINEAR:
Echo the empty thought and blister it with the dirt-laden shovel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRAEbKJ-vTk
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