Mashed bodies in purple cubes,
dissolved contours,
raised their hand,
nodding,
then and before.
Triangles attacked them,
only electromagnetic waves,
photons, and silence.
Nothing more.
We, our time,
that sound,
your love,
my breathing,
that smile,
their evilness,
his kindness,
are only in this bubbled bead,
where our softness is screaming,
where borders of temperatures
and pressures keep us alive,
and we can create and recreate
our useless and stupid moments.
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