This is cherry citrus lips and a kaleidoscope of spice and hugs. The soft smell of a ghost’s hair. Eye ponds twinkle, hinting of forbidden fun and the promise of salty transgression.
Blood and thunder, love and war, ascetic and sybaritic.
From the senses to the mind to the knockout punch commencing a pleasantly vertiginous spiral downward into the dark cotton.
Explosion of a tender curve ricocheting across the nutmeg glow.
Pregnant air whipped into the concrete reality of the mind’s crafted wall.
Welcome to hell and home, traveler.