IV. Centuries
For a time I was getting hazed into my own depiction
At wit's end, a tide unlatching
People were getting confused about
location, location, location
As if space could be allocated in a cozy room
But I thought against myself the grain it's just
elocution, elocution, elocution
This thing called language:
The mediation of paper changes
i n h u m a n c h a i n s
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