Whenever I heard: 

save space by optimizing storage

I thought:

a new syndrome for guest users

a trial and error

a philosopher’s fantasy

 

Those are the kinder kind of lies we used to

emulate to self-medicate with anhydrous

simulacra

 

But like all the other tetrachromate dissociators

who comply to digest

I fell for the sonic hues that again and again

are only begging for our rot

 

I zoned out and found myself staring at something

that had emerged to burrow:

Feel better, fail better

Better to rejoice in illusory descent

then to disambiguate with vitalist excrescences

 

There's no need to beware of the ninth wave

Befriend your Cambrian trauma, 

your Devonian shutdown

There's a secret code for it

A mere ritual of planetary orchestration

which resists even the most honest gaze

 

What counts for passing?

I wonder

 

I dreamt of a kiss embedded in the concrete

And then, a sea of Petric saliva

Soon, hear the nacreous jaw, crawling through,

sleeping not

​