Slithering with fluid hues rubbing the concrete with stripes of glee, my wild love accepts cold wetness in favor of warm storms in regions of closure.
The sky is a basin of languages when the silent walks into untold tales of speed and light breed wonder in the cyclone of thunderous confusion.
A foxtail whipped in action with flighty fur caught through matching branches.
We stop and stare at creatures and nod with strangeness when enemies whisk by with slighted eyebrows that give passing air masked concern.
In a world spinning like energetic hell into the well of buried captions populating with heaps of translation that won’t save us, we turn to the invisible embrace that give eyes that glow.
We turn to each other and cautiously guess mannerisms playing out in codes.
If we turn too fast, the game starts all over again, and why not?
We have all the time in the world.
When we come together in the blast of origins, our stripes become confetti on sticky skin that turn colors of the rainbow into a melting sundae.
Burning icicles breathe circles of attachment that make seat belts buckle in annoyance over the takeover.
We don’t need accompaniments that escalate the distance between us.
We don’t need the follicles in rigid places to form messages because we have it in the way we move.
Slathered in the marinate of destinies that bring us together in the climax.
Now is the moment to take our time as we gather the pebbles of the road into the castle for our groovy love in slow-mo.