the colors surged. flesh the kindling. touch the catalyst. an explosion of want as our desire betrayed us.
the forest seething. our breadcrumbs gone. as we engage time as a predator.
we’re atoms. searching for a nucleus. we’re monkeys still dumbfounded by evolution.
there’s the thunder of intellect. and the whisper of lust. as we crawl out of these heavy skins. and wait for change to find us.
the pages still turn though we’ve written nothing on them. the end still inches closer. though we pretend not to fear it.