Friday, June 29, 2012


Another's touch startles the cosmos within your own skin, sends objects out of orbit, constellations falling outward and inward.

Your body becomes a foreign living landscape where geysers of sensation distort perception, and beauty and horror are banal daily bread.

How women smell!
The living hell of 
their proportions.
The living hell of
your proportions.

Your skull crashing through innocence forever.

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