.love poem.

my mind is a big chunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell
and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome
and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming
something a little different, in fact myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.
— my mind is… (XXV) by E. E. Cummings
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