TERMINAL POEMS

The Feed

30 / 40 · VI. The Eye

What you see
is not the world
but the world
the machine believes
you want.

It learns
from your pauses,
your scrolls,
your 2am
thumb-hovering
over images
you did not choose
to want.

It builds a corridor.
You walk down it.

The walls narrow
so gradually
you mistake them
for a path.

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