sound is no more a sense
neither the light
nor the touch
even not the taste and smell
all One, in One, blended and bred
forming a rope from her belly button,
pulling constantly to nowhere
- which is everywhere -
with all her knives in the hand
with no sense
with all the knowledge
here she goes to the void,
her void, filled with words
those will be cut, blended and bred.
monsieur1
