mum boy (working title)

writin new bits here and there/not committin
ever-transmittin ever-expressin/ventin, findin
pace i catch the wind n i soar on, saw me swoop in
snatch, and gut prey in a tree
bustin nuts up a tree n i fly on, on over them trees
n through them eagle-vision eye beads i see
with that heat mapping, the free wifi
the GPS – i’m an animal with like eleven senses
locked in by the suction cups, the drips, the hydropumps
mainframe reclinin’/
endless scrollin’ as a new feature in whatever
forever wading into some twisting void
/while imagined judging eyes compromise truth

b authentic

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