thirty eight hours

and useless

her lonely mother

remained silent

resting on the shoulder

of her companion

the great sun and the heavens

now seemed artificial.

do we understand the power

of our instruments?

vanity of the vanities

sometimes tried to stand and walk

like us

a coat of magnetic mindlessness

the man with bad intent

playing us like the smallest violin

this feeling of emptiness

Is more alive than me

illusions all around us.

to soften the blow

between the operator

and the subjects

you found my energy

in the broken pulse of time

I pulsate with the angels

and then laugh at our farewell

I am a memory

you see… that

this

is the end.

-Kyoko Cole

2018

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