It is merely recognised.
There is a dog plus computational power.
A warring body is shattered.
Food is poison.
Power is reduced.
Fingernails, sweat and hair are unassimilable.
It is merely registered.
A series of organs in combat.
There is, simply, life.
A red globe is drifting down through shades of gold.
Flesh driven by outrage.
It is stripped, to bare denotation, of imagination.
Power turns on itself.
Consumption is destruction.
Power turns in on itself.
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