The era of the pretend
So close, almost touching
Like Christmas Eve every day
These computers, they are our shields
Spinning our narrative
Match up
Still something missing
We are that that is that
Not here
Have forgotten
We form in bodies
Not in the thought of
Blood and a first scream breath
This is our first step into the world
Screens and pretty words cannot give us this
We need
It is ok to need
Skin touched
Sounds heard through the same air
Not different rooms and temperatures
Afraid to fail
To make the same mistakes
There is no mistake
Only learning that must be learned
If not then, then after, before the next
Always a next, even when with the same
We will not remember fingers on keyboards
No, not this
Sensations are the functioning
Formations of memories
Into this physical reality
We come


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