Coughing in the box of my room,
Penance for cleaning,
And punishment for waiting so long to sweep
And yet despite isolation in the chamber
I manage to conjure up
Another one of my buried visions
The shining specifications focused
On the endless search
For new connections without damages
But to remain surrounded by close corners
Is to invite nothingness
And nothingness begins new pain
Because it is only an false void,
Just a mix of darkness
And isolation imitating a cessation of bonds
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