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Sparks Fly

Under the pitch black sky,
The moon lies pale and luminescent,
Gazing upon two people—namely, a boy and a girl,
Forming shadows from their white, opaque skin…
As the two stand…alone…
Nervous, moving ever so slowly but ever so rapidly…
The girl, seemingly frozen but ever so hesitant…
The boy, appearing curious but clearly without a clue…
Until they come onto each other…
The girl’s hand flat on the boy’s chest…
Like flat bread cupping a layer of scrambled eggs…
The flesh of the mouth interlocks with the other…
Sending a shockwave between the two,
Causing a short circuit…
Thus, a fire starts…
The components have not come out of contact…
The girl’s hand becomes under attack
By the rampage of the boy’s heart
Pounding ever so fervently against his chest
As the boy begins to pull the girl closer,
Seemingly in attempt to resist such shock…
However, the contrary.
Fuel is added to the fire…
Short circuits are dangerous.
Be careful.

A Mask of Liquid Crystal Display

As I punch, press, or tap—whatever you want to call it—the keys on my keyboard
I do so in a combination with the ability to create any emotion
Happy, sad, angry, surprised, perhaps emotionless
A series of combinations of twenty-six letters
Of which appear in blank verse, iambic pentameter, or whatever—
But are controlled by fingers, moreover, the mind
The transfer of emotions through a flat screen, and the reception of which is perceived…
But one has no knowledge of what is behind the screen—
The screen of which happens to be far, far away…
The illusion of emotion from screen to screen,
But lack of knowledge of the truth.
The true emotion of the face…
Of the heart…
Thus, it is fair to say that the mind can use the fingers to create an illusion,
An illusion of which is unclear to the audience by the help of an input device,
A feigned appearance generated by the formation of text…
But the truth lies away from the crowd…
The truth of which only the heart knows…
And thus expresses through the face…

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