As invisible as the in-between
Indivisible as your breath expelled
And the air I breathe
Still, we sink.
There's a radio station in my head
Receiving first printing
Collector's edition
Limited pressing
Endlessly repeating
A message I can never remember.
I reach for it, and it slips into the cyber infinity
Black holes of rage, gravitational waves pulling everything
Toward a formless, impartial fate
As it reflects back through the black of our eyes
The center of what you see as I;
But is this skin part of me, this largest organ of my body?
How can I know for sure until it touches something?
The center—if not the flesh that surrounds me
Nor the air I breathe, then touch it.
For if not to be touched, what should this skin live to be?
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