what am i on the verge of here?
strange quantities of knowing and undoing the knowing,
stringy bits of information that once were the finite pieces of personality
but we are all so very limitless.
and you,
with your chasms of secrets i can only manage to catch flashes of,
one day i will figure you out and i will make sure that you know
i have every intention of drawing the hush-hush out of you
like a black and yellow humor.
the further i get,
the more apprehensive i become.
what is it, what is nestled in those umber eyes i always seem to see right through?
i can't make them give anything away,
and i'm not even sure i want them to.
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