There is a sound in the floors
Distinct across the walls
Through latency, direct:
It is my reverberation. It is entomy and jarred.
It is the manipulation of matter
Issuance of contract
This is death
Letting yourself read;
Thinking: A good thing
It is me that they chose to sublet
A malice of fortune, good politics.
The one single word;
I am only oppressed
This house is a chamber
Which I am not allowed to leave
And I will not forget
The days where you held your pieces – over a siphoning humanity.
One to love, oh; A true discovery.