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Strangers MAG
I wonder if she smells like ripe apples
hanging on the hands of a tree branch. I wonder if the tips of her fingers are
as soft as her face seems. Now I am left with the thought of wishing to know how her lips function. If they jive into the
right direction?
And I wonder if she is mechanically built with a motor. Electrically ubiquitous?
Consuming just the right amount of
kilowatts? Maybe I am not certain. What if
she, if not careful, reaches combustion? Will I be able to fix her disintegrated engine? Slowly remove the skin and, at the same time, tear into the core of her apple
as the gasoline is dripping crimson red, slowly mixing with air, only craving a spark? I can slowly turn you into nothing.
Into a speck of dust, a faded memory or
a bad dream.
But I would find any excuse to hesitate.
For now, let me help the
ignition as it pumps with the vessels
supporting your body and blood.
Reproducing and sending a letter like
high voltage, circling among your
entire being. And here another spark is
lit and ignites the blood like fuel,
and now let me sew it all back together
and into a perfectly running heart.
I wonder if she is chemically balanced,
if she is equal on both sides of the
equation. Look at the mysterious glare in her eyes. Your smile can be so deceiving, yet no mark is worn. You seem so innocent but corrupted. You make me feel inhuman when I come across your thought. I am swallowed by my own words and yet I know nothing of you. Nothing but your beauty, your unconscious ambition concentrated on me. You’re all-powerful but humble. I am hopelessly in love with your reflection. Your absolute integrity, your complete vanity and humanity. And I am in love with a complete stranger.
A beautiful and perfect stranger.
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