Formicarium

Telegraph arrives when I’ll be up in the severe early morning. This mind finds
no hooks for sleigh bells of discontent,
humming hard like a fluorescent light ballast.

Puts my body in whim, it’d like a run of inquiries to search into fractals,
find another world under influence.

See something’s been taken in on an impression rising like a city skyline fed by surrounding boroughs. Lights flicker pastoral morse code-
receive awareness from future genes aiding the hatch.

So I sit propped against this black headboard while the moon pulls a hair to rise, spoken in ant legs on my ear. There is no end to these cities,
sleep be generous for these wrested mycelial routes.

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