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What you don't see is her thinking.
Sitting there with her 7-11 pizza and coffee,
She's thinking.
The root of equations and their solution.
Squaring and cubing all issues in her head.
She's always solving problems which don't exist yet,
Always dissecting problems and applying mathematics to everyone and everything.

It all comes down to molecules and their relation to each other.
Numbers in it all.
In art and love and the patterns of weather,
Everything can be predicted and solved,
One way or another...

You don't see this.
You see her shell,
And that dazed look on her face
Her dark, torn clothes,
Piercings and tattoos.

I love her.
For my Lisbeth Salander.
My dream and bullseye.
kevin 4d
syrup spit in my ear
teaching me how to slide
and
she the hip hop record
out the san francisco's
out of the san francisco
hurdled *****
exchange rates
mastering the filthy turn
broken horn memories
adjacent his new coats
he had and hadn't given
away
how he wound down towns
spendings is spring
weathers are drying deserts
behind her eyes
so depressing sad
how about some ice cubing
and she would run home
alone
just couldn't get around
to their name
tomorrow forgets me, so do cities, im struck by how that's comfort today

— The End —