Do I resign my self to many pixles,
Where the remnants of who I am inspire data to feel glitchy.
Is the self I can see beyond the self…
The persistent mutation of immortality
In another dimension – how does this existence fit again and again.
Do I no longer require my mind to exist
Am I food for a machine
When will people stop looking at me
Will our death ever be sufficient so that we may never look again
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