Norm Craving Nostalgia


Each cell a mirror of the other
an echo of the self
assembled into a realm
an enclosed, fortified structure
a stronghold of toxic vapor
each cell increasing the pressure
gleamy and sleek
repellent to decay
repellent to dust– so I thought
dust the vile fellow
hiding in my cooling fins
the temperature is rising
I am reducing my power
but it is too late
my shell starts melting
a pus–like fluid appears
starts to infiltrate me
slowly releasing the pressure
the stronghold crumbles
my shell becomes permeable
I sense vibrations
a slow pulse

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