My Inaudible globular and disjunctly fretted entanglement-of-curves
Push me like a plethora of inexplicable visitations
Infer me deeply
Search my nervous extremity
Have i now be your flute-throat mate?
My sparkled optics’ most immediate radiance
I try to write you down my barest perpectival logic
into the bottom of cathectic thought ’till there’s no more geo-classical ordering
This love letter (self’s pulp of audible being) shall remind me
Meat ineffable love just as this far and it should be frank enough also
Well, i wish the hypnogogically inspired of your organic blobs
to see you intrinsically variable always in the pulp of animal being
Otohime 