nothing short of a miracle

cocky, smart, full of petty cattiness
I’ve never met a person so full of half of me
on the other hand, I am, for sure,
a very bad judge of characters
in an apartment full of cats
a confused technopoetologist with routinely nanoerrors
there isn’t really much you need to know about the plot
in fact, the beauty of noises perfectly captures
the essence of all play and no work makes nobody dull and dumb dynamically
but that’s tomorrow
to attempt
to illuminate
the anatomy of trance
when the naked ribs of the unrivalled intensity and singularity
deepen impotent morbid anxiety
I give you a truth which came from cats
movement is the key no matter it be coaxed out by dream or madness
one is immediately plunged into randoms
adrift from each other
drop down into each other
comfortably nullified alongside each other
silence as an imagination
the space of the mirror itself
when the gentle cats step from each other’s existence
yet combine to create otherworldly holiness and purity about them
nothing is definitive


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