Tilt
Bend
Colors collide
The ground speaks in pulses
Circles collapse into waves
I touch the brick
It hums
Or is it me?
A rhythm builds in unseen lines
Forward feels backward
Is this mine?
Tilt
Bend
Colors collide
The ground speaks in pulses
Circles collapse into waves
I touch the brick
It hums
Or is it me?
A rhythm builds in unseen lines
Forward feels backward
Is this mine?

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