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The Prompts: 1 2 (the links to the images I used are here)

love/anemone
move any closer
and it stings

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behind forestwork, the dusty silhouette of a building with no walls—
its numbers are crooked
its angles are cursed—
a dismal monotone slowly eaten by the forest roots
while its construction cringes on the eidolic
nature, cursing its birth.          “I have no eigenvalue—
buildings have no characteristic roots—          My eighter
companions have since crumbled—          I am a bastard eigne.”