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The collision of our countless
components inspired our own
creation. Lifetimes: an infinitude
of color within a darkened cave
or a blink of the faceless eye’s
existence as symphonic sound
waves–held captive by the
repetition of the monotone tick:
I watch a watch wrapped ’round
my wrist, its three hands warning
of our own significance as conducts
colliding with each other again and
again. It’s an erratic augmentation
and we call it consciousness as if
we know.