“I’m dead?”
Triangles heard the question yet squeezed her eyes tight and tried not to listen to strike blows on ground.
“There’s a plane, it’s not a plane,” hissed one, ungainly.
Nobody listened.

“I’m dead?” Plane demanded and collected in wet corners of the cave, groaning in a pitiful.
Ahh there were circles, whimpering “are.”


Line hit, bounced up and down in dark, light
it fell through crack and showed 2 dimensions, squirming.

“No, you’re a stick! A twig two ways …” shouted squig, a strong back.

Don’t let it move, don’t let it move all prayed.

Plane turned around, started yelling erupted turtles, coffee and large.

“What’s a coffee?” thought a vapor, and cried the whole rest of the night.



Ý  Δ


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