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if I found the membrane again

if I touch it

No

if I go even deeper

if I reach right through and grab

that beating heart

of everything

 

if I have hold of it

if I feel the pulse of it in my palm

if I understand the life of it

the size and shape of it

 

If I then

can pour its essence mixed with ink

translated to words

 

it won’t matter

No

it won’t mean a thing

Just as if I had written in black ink

on a black toned page

 

(chaos girl ©)

 

 

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