The Agent

As you turn-twist
you realize your own automaton
and that,
many things were never voluntary.

This is not to pan-flip
the age old egg of free will,
This is a war

against
the time travel agent sitting inside your head
who thinks,
and very well apprehends
your blouses, suits and cardigans
your armors and knee-tights


It is a printing press
It presses before there was an apprehension of a button
and out comes the news,
the rumor based truth.





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