"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Thursday, March 3, 2016

What You Do.

Her eyes cut through me.
A hot blade through cold butter.
Her eyes gut punch me.
A hammer to the head of a nail.
Her hands still hold me.
An anchor clinched around coral.
Her hands move through me.
An automatic rifle kicking out after firing.

I don't know if she knows.
I want her to want me.
I see that she sees
her special effect is affecting me.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."