January 5, 2005

eighteen small steps forward,
one backwards was about to occure
as electrical impulses fled through her mind and the
all (were they?) became d(e)ist(roy)orted(ed) fragments
of a (prosthetic, they claimed) imagination.

it wasn’t even hers, it had been copyrighted to something or one else, and they or him or it had lost control when she heard how to think alone and individually.

but the claim was still there like an electrical burn that was the source of the impulses that fled through her brain that finally

the think