There logic Smashes Against some kind of

There logic Smashes Against some kind of Subcutaneous chemistry — She read All my poems — can you imagine? — And blocked me. Forever frozen between "was online" and "stepped out on errands… into alchemy". And the chemistry over the living flesh spreads crooked, in places cynical — We — Naked, in solitary — At Point Nemo — we smile at our own selves hysterically. I lit a cigarette. Apparently, She Still Wants To See me. In person.