Con Jobs
The world looked warped and twisted on a broken screen of nightFaces and figures fractured in a pressurized atmosphere of incomprehensible
Conjecture.
An unrecognizable voice answers the telephone
Someone from a different past
A room only lived in imagination
Where windows are doors see
Look where to go and turn around inside
Being singular so multiple rays explore
The it is not there is here or nowhere
Look for the see turn on the light, a broken screen of night
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Written on 2025-12-12 at 13:38
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