Girls Against God

heads poking above the surface, like two earrings fastened to the soft cloth lining of a gift box.
Below their heads I see chopped up bits of animals and plants, and now also Venke and Terese, liberated from their original form, components stirred together in random monstrous combinations. The aspic becomes a place for the impossible. In that place God can’t see us, I think, because there’s no I left. We escape our sinful subjects: I’m not a subject, but subversive.
Maybe this is what we call ‘magic’. Maybe this is ‘darkness’. Maybe this is the magical place where we can find each other. Maybe this is where I can get closer to you.
As I lie like an egg yolk, eyes shut in the thick mass, I feel you out there somewhere, in the same mass. Maybe this kind of love is the root of all witchcraft, to reshape dimensions to get closer to each other; maybe by writing this, I can bind us together.
and?
Tell me,
did we ever get that close?