allmyelectronsarepositivelycharged Baby, I'm telling you, you'll never understand me. And I'll tell you why: you never read any Simic, any Plath and you donšt know even what I am and not. And all the pretty virgins will never understand my devotion to the underworld. All the pretty physicists will not understand my structure or my speed, though they dabble in Metaphysics. They forgot the sweat and hormones in their Big Bang theories. The forgot the sweet ill-logic of the heart. And no one understands my lust for the Man From Mars, for we know something. I think in prosody and molecules, in letters and proteins; music and monotony. Vulcan loved Pandora despite all that estrogen. You think he was unfeeling? He made the lightning bolts. He knew the physics of my heart. He knows me more intimately than you can without a microscope.
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