Stereophonic Child, Inc.

1 minute read   ·   03/ 75 Third Avenue
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I don’t understand a word you say, yet everything sounds beautiful. A melodic rhyme of consonants and vowels in a language undecipherable by my brain. The voice is your weapon; you are the temptress.

I’m on the outside looking in; Let me in.

Scenario II: Let me be your obi. Let me wrap around your waist like a slithering snake, enrapturing your heart and crystallizing your thoughts so they last forevermore.

After all, freeze frames supply the greatest of joys.

Butterfly: metamorphosize. In a mode of deception, the skin falls away. We’ve got a brand new being, a winner, a fortune teller’s victory (as she creeps out the back door). Hail now, will you, to the thieves that take away the synthetic from the night. Hail now to the foreign bodied thieves that do create the unnatural for your surreal pleasure.

In that, the barren night }———

———{ your lunar voice comes, plays and holds me still: a neo-nexus.