i need to write to keep sane
I am warm. all over. it is astounding how myths and legends can underestimate how warm souls can become when they collide. warm, I slide into your arms, where our words ache to touch each other, into submission we caress our symptoms and wallow in its sympathies. there is naught but here, but these phrases, where scandalousness rears its toll and drinks itself into our senses and our sights. warm, toasty, and fresh. what we wish to see, to feel, brigades its parades into neat squares, bite-sized and easy for each other to digest.

that's what we do. and when we've had enough to eat, we swallow.