Crossing the Desert

the angle relents. the distance swallows. a funeral of skin urges us to live.

turpentine lips steal the colors from unraveling threads. we marvel at gravity’s persistence. spoiling in the yoke of our paradox. that what makes us weak also makes us strong.

touch like tinder. easily ignites. we embrace the flames. anything to escape the cold.

flesh unfurls. a treacherous road. the body reveals its topography. a merciless terrain of highs and lows.

a perfect odyssey of pleasure and pain.

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