Itching Desire
Like water, like soap,
like spilling beautiful blood on a porcelain floor.
Like tearing apart your skin.
Like looking into the sun and losing sight of everything else,
then falling into the dirt.
Tight Junctions
It is his skin, not the mortal, physical, graspable wrapping for his vessel. But the tethered spaces in between his cells. Filled with life, tears, soul and pain. The confinement you wanna pull apart, with your bare hands, out of love or in search for love.
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