when you can't imagine conspiracy,
love must always obviously confront you.
you know for sure,
there is no world of second thoughts.
your senses have never lost a second sock.
your world is only made up of seconds in passing.
all words in books stand for real.
imagination is just places
you haven't visited yet.
gobsmacked is an actual state of being.
all theory is made up of pretend
and all of logic is blessed with a smile.
even what is scary
is just not familiar yet.
for what isn't now
will become soon.
so how many dimensions of comprehension
are too much?
are all paradoxes a hall of mirrors?
and why now,
do I assume
you understand
what I mean?
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