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,:-;*§§### I Sit In My Cubicle In The Work Mill ###§§*;-:,
,:-;*§§### And Feel Somewhat At Peace - I'Ve ###§§*;-:,
,:-;*§§### Entered A Bright Anomaly. Morning ###§§*;-:,
,:---**§§§ Liminality. §§§**---:,
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,:-;*§§### No One Is Here. There'S Dust In The ###§§*;-:,
,:-;*§§### Air. A Strong Light Shines Through The ###§§*;-:,
,,,,,,-**§ Windows, And Turns The Office Into §**-,,,,,,
,,:::-;*§# Something New. I Pretend It'S The Sun. #§*;-:::,,
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,:-;*§§§§# I Speak With The Plants In My Head. #§§§§*;-:,
,:--;*§§## They Are Getting Too Much Water, Or The ##§§*;--:,
,:-;***§§# Water They Get Is Of Dubious Quality. #§§***;-:,
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