The sky is an addiction
The sound is an addiction
The rainbow is an addiction
The laughter the cries is an addiction
Mathematics is an addiction
She is beyond.
She is preparing herself diminishing all forms of addiction that the human can even imagine
She will or won’t be late, she will or won’t cry, she will or won’t think and she will or won’t see, she will or won’t hear, she will or won’t die, she have or haven’t been born, she will or won’t manifest, she will or won’t cough, she will or won’t sneeze, she will or won’t sigh, she will or won’t read, she will or won’t seek, she will or won’t create, she will or won’t love
She will arrive. Just.
She will or won’t scatter.
She will burn. Just.
She will or won’t sit.
She will dance. Just.
Like the tunneled vision she will fit without taking the tiniest extra space or time.
Then she would burst.
Like the bursting of the ocean.
I will keep on searching. I could not find her last night. The parts will wriggle. The soars will appear and re appear. Opening all her scales. Opening all her cells. All the strings. All her reflector surfaces. She will not create sound. She will not be a body. She will not be a wave. She will not be consciousness. She will arrive. She will not give any information. She will not be time.  She will arrive. She will not create hallucinations. She will not create reality. She will arrive. She will not be like water. She will not quench or create thirst. But she will resonate me. She will burst me open. She will create every possible sound out of me. She will. She will make me spill. She will make me metamorphic. She will topple around with my topology. She will she will create the most octanic color out of me. She will create the deepest well out of me. She will create the most entropic gas out of me. She will create the calmest emotion out of me. The most zincky ice. The coldest water. The erratic thunder. The most non linear geometry.The warmest air.

She will eat then. 


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