Pornographic images are burned into my retinas. Dirt and dust have found their way into our crevices.

Sunset comes, sirens blare, silent stares, make their point; the point is to leave you speechless.

That’s the mission, to leave you longing, scraping at the edges of this bowl, the edges of your fragile sanity.

Silver screens and action scenes paint yesterday into antiquity.

I arrive, breathing life into your dry, chipping husk. I only want to see your eyes, lit and burning, with that familiar fire.

But you only want to hang there, counting the limbs you lose as they snap and fall away. 

Kisses have become no more than reflex. Memories serving as meager medicine for our shared condition.

Two souls converge, blending at their partition.

How long before the voice of the Unknown rattles our shack, strips the walls, and leaves us with only each other’s last words?

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