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Infinitum

There, from your scrawny little self
fly your conflicts,
controlling the desire of
ever being understood.

If ever word was enough for empathy,
we would never need to kiss hands
or look into eyes.

If belief was enough for security,
never would we need to ask
and declare
our love.

There is your body,
bottling up your sensation of space
and your running away from time
making your fingers thunder
and words fumble.

The fluid blueness of your soul
escaping this chalky body that has
become little from trembling
like a leaf.
All the time.

If you ever were to be understood.
How would it be.
How would it be to know that you feel
with a stranger.
When would you be certain
of knowledge of knowledge, ad infinitum.

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