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Sound Screens
I make voices from
the white noise,
let them entertain me.
They are small and
cunning and say great
large things into my
ears. Slumped in the
grasp of industrial
chairs, I am hugged by
itching polyester.
I make these sounds
speak, so I don't have to.
They have taken my words,
I give them away
and sit with chapped lips
in the air conditioning.
Sound Screens I have parted,
twisted into human form.
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