poetry critical

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Heat Death

I always think:
Here I am, I am in
The Future.
It sort of became that way
or anyway or what you want to call it,
as time is considerably irrelevant anymore.
So I call it the future,
where we don't die,
and we are eternal pets of The Universe.

18 Jul 12

(define the words in this poem)

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 — technomancer

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