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I awaken to no sound.
Leave eyes shut.
Rustle my sheets and wonder what words can describe that sound I never thought to investigate til now.

Nowhere to go just now.

Eyes shut: there is the darkness like velvet and jelly and dirt all at once.
A moving plasma. Tiny seeds of energy suspended.

Viruses are agents.
We are agents.
Locked down, lumbering agents, we move so much slower than tiny ones.

Scream and they won’t hear you.
They stay calm
and carry on.
Spikes.Their tiny spikes.
We are so permeable.

We are punctured.
Hear the hot air whistle out.

For millennia we lug about
halberds, gatling guns, AK47’s,
yet they
with their teeny tiny tools
wield greater power.

We clutch our holy books.
our manifestos.
but they are so much fluff to the virions.
Virile are the virions.
Virile was the marketplace.
Was the marketplace

A new marketplace will open soon.
On the new commons.
Weather report is for
Juicy Blue Skies.

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