"plotting all along"
all of the extension cords lead straight into
a golden chest. a conduit.
it opens
wide and speaks through the ages. it does
not tire. right foot forward he stumbles to
his feet and lands on the floor face down
gasping for air. neon purple and gold accent
the curling body. golden teeth cringe, sludge drips
from the eyes. there is perpetual sadness in the
sight of a machine. happy birthday.
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