write and
the pencil moves
forward. then
down. soon
one made
lines. something
was made.
it is there, but
it creeps in
through the ear
lobes. it lives
behind the brain.
between the brain
and the skull.
it comes out
when it senses
no threat.
it urges destruction
of the little
filled lines.
the eraser moves
before the
brain considers.
the eraser erases.
exists alone.
it did
destroy then
it left to go
back home. to
it’s empty room
behind your brain.
the backspace.


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