An empty dossier gets you kitchen sinked.
You absorb loose photons like a new coat
of primer. You eat clean light and could
forever. Like matte boot-black. Like long
days spent brushing red-rot off books. Each
pixel-width disclosure reveals a bit of your
fingerprint. Let’s learn, let’s lean on glissando,
let’s let some same sounds phase. Let’s switch
on our remote looks when things get heavy.
All those bee-stung children know it now.
Some are willing to drop refs over yellowcards.
One shot his younger sister; his firearm read
full toy. There are probably enough hulks in this
already, but, really: do you. I know it’s tempting
to grouse the interface. I prefer to putty-color it.