Me and you, you and me
Who am I, the one who sits in my body and relizes that she thinks, or the one who in the mirror calls her reflection myself. The world travels in a continuous stream of consciousness from outside to inside, from inside to outside, as if there are no walls, no obstacles, physical laws, or biological rules, from me to you, from you to me. And what is the difference then between us? Maybe my consciousness is yours and your body is mine. And if so, what will happen if I were you and you were me now.
Step over the curtain of physical rules.
There you will find the structures of numbers
Which through the infinite versions of probabilities.
Create that language thus the world speaks.
In defense of the opacity towards protrusion,
Denounce the tale of impartiality sheltering that which constitutes a moderate fancy, Instead – weave a thread of sheer compulsion,
Perhaps with a pinch of combustible inertia,
To plunge into the self-consuming vigor of momentary dedication
Defying the disgraceful plasticity of mildly detached, wellness laden, crystalline self-care.
And If, by chance, the relentlessness of my desire rings an alarming bell,
Prepare the armor of solid steel,
I will greet you in Organza.