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I am.

To Pixelate.

The abscess at the back of your neck.

I am emerging, in a gap, unfixed, an Output and input.

I am home.

I am not. Going to say that.

I only will do what I derive strength from.

And the next question would be…?

I can turn things around. It will not defeat me.

I am not. Going to do that. Until I bleed.

I dream of a world of tomorrow where I have not deciphered the mystery.

I am not new. You’re not new either.

Host-ess on the outside.

You are enjoying playing with me.

I am an assembler.

Articulating body. Frame.

I am an acrobat of time.

Space has no meaning.

Im a healer.

An organism of mortals. Women don’t die.

I am the guardian. The keeper.    

I`m here to perform emotional rescue.

I collect you, and store you.

Architecture towards death.

I am a fan of amnesia for the power it bestows on me.

I am erroneous and I find fitting places.

I appropriate disconnecting pieces to invent Identities.

I make lots of questions. And I`ll make you answer them.


How to die.

I make things.

I do things.

I see things that you don’t, and I also see you.

I want you to be the maker, the protagonist.

And if you don’t want to be?

I invent how to derail.

Take care of the endings.

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