Backing up ones brain
In a state of flux, it hovers between layers
In the emulsion of wavelengths
In the bubbly layer of goo
The vessel that holds the bats
The bats are thoughts
The vessel is skin
Stretched over a wild chaotic cloud of predators
Yet it maintains a shape
Elluding to a form
But form would be lost if I were blind
Arguing while dragging ones
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