OUR FLESH | OUR SKIES | OUR DREAMS | ARE RAW

I find it hard to believe that mere chance brings you to me. Surely when my shaded face looks up to you it is being called. You may not know my name but my affliction touches you, and in turn your remedy pierces me. Do not erase these words, written, painted, kissed.

I fought the dream, but the dream won. Quiet and passive as I tried to be, these colours kept screaming within me. Look closely, my irises swirl and pulse continuously, a storm is ripping through.

I want to be consumed by these landscapes.
Have their glitter fill my eyes, mouth, and lungs; to have blood that sparkles.

Oh summer skin, warm and supple, full of freshness, I miss you already. I remember I spent this day reading Proust in my yard, and at evening I lay on the couch to observe my favourite tree atop the hill. She danced with the breeze, in the full bloom of the setting sun, and my legs tingled at the sight.

People I know have mentioned a lack of romanticism this summer. Maybe I'm content with too little but I had a marvelous time. I felt so in tune with all the colours, scents, and textures. It was as though the season finally found me ripe enough for embracing, and decided to enhance all my senses. I think she did her best caressing at the island. There I lay my head to rest on her lavish lap and was completely consumed. Oh heaven really is closer than you think, you just have to let it find you! One day I'll have a little cottage too, and paradise will be with me always.

That day the snow bent every tree
You banished me with iron chain
I heard your venomous decree
"Return when Helios reigns again".

Today his light warms every bone
Even death it could beguile
Keep your promise, lips of stone,
Let me see you smile.

On a hot August day we wandered into the building for shade and silence. We received it. In the dark passage only the water-fountain made a sound as it moistened our burning lips. We closed our eyes to savour the coolness in our throats, and then, bursting through, music. An organ.

Not so fast. It sang. Shade and silence. At the height of summer. Why? Come here, yes, faster, your feet hurt, I know, from searching, but I have it, come see. Put your hands on the walls, follow the vibrations, it's just a little further. Stop! Now turn the corner, slowly. There.

I can feel you trembling. Good.

Observe how inviting it is, like the innermost chamber of a beehive. It smells of warmed wood & varnish. Clean, smooth, upright. The altar is like your favourite bonbon, wrapped in that gold foil that makes your fingertips tingle as you smooth it out. Go ahead, roll the sweetness around in your mouth until you've finished caressing it. Give yourself an instant to exist purely for its flavour. Then, open your ribcages, allow yourselves to sigh, let the kind reflected light enter you. Become colourful and clear like the window panes. This angelic complexion suits you. Will you stay?