There Was Never A Minus Between Us

I wanted to stage the exact instant the limb remembers it was always an interface. I split the world on a charged horizon: below, entropy silk unravels and reknits into fingerprints, synapses, and handset silhouettes; above, ultraviolet veinwork answers like reflex. At the seam I force a palimpsest region where pre-residue, active event, and post-scar physically overwrite each other in recursive passes, preventing any motif from stabilizing. Stand at that seam and feel the blend refuse to blend — it overwrites, and in that ecstatic vertigo the boundary admits it was imaginary.