this may go nowhere
the electric razor buzzes erratically in the other room
cleaning itself and
and there was this urge to do something
in the form of words launched
they just kept coming
bunched up into phrases
but under the influence of words
that just keep coming
me and the razor and the robot doing its thing
bubbling, whirring
and someone somewhere stoned as hell
thinking about it
that thing
and how it should fit in
or better yet, integrate
or forget about it all together
and take a nap

but no
like pulses
and impulses
under no one’s direction
pushing at
pushing out
a smooth ripple easily washing over
and over
and over
like pulses
and impulses
and the razor and the robot doing its thing
but not without Humphrey
in the background
ruining everything with his ideas
on the condition of reality

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