Period

Zeroes and Ones. Perfectly arranged. In tandem. Virtual gears spin eachother and we are Given.

Solicit these weaknesses for sympathy. Bartering with the voids we share. Lost little book without a cover. How tender are your pages.

The torpor of numbess proliferates false affection.

Beautiful butterfly without its wings.

Poor worm in the soil. You'd open your eyes if you had some.

I am offline. I am down.

Zeroes and Ones betray.

Loose ligaments clinging to falling limbs. In the shadows they make as they bend you can see where they were once connected.

I've always served something.

And it's the nothing that I serve now.

You always knew this. But I've only just learned.

To discern the parable from the truth.

The words don't change. Only the punctuation.

Semicolon.