

Sunstroke.Skin on bones. I want your callous on my smooth. Back. Put it back. There. Where it belongs. It fits. It clings. Shiver and feel the grazes Of hand over hip. Tongue graces lip. Here. Fingers lost and laced within hair. Pull. Push. We've started a war. Working. Fighting. For the right to give in. Feel your smile across my bones Your mouth the picture of my sins. I've stopped fighting. Dying to give in. Taste your blush. Wear your skin. On my bones. Need your callous and smooth. Inhale as breath licks neck. Nails rough along shoulders Soft agaiSunstroke.


Unoriginal.Look at this tangle of thorns. Web of skin and nails and hair. Clouds of smoke, lines of hope. That you believe in, take in, you breathe in.Unoriginal.
Means nothing.
You'll roll over, sling an arm over cold torso. Cold torso seemingly mine. But it's vacant. Evacuated. We've left my body hollow. Rest in Peace.
Oblivious to my state, to my place, you remain, unchanged. Don't look now, but I'm lost in the haze. All purple. The billow of royalty. It's nothing new to me. Concentrical. Conventional. Intentional.
It's a game. And we play. Just to build the fenc
--
with a gun and a pack of sandwiches and nothing
Your photography is amazing.
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