A dream and wake.

Walking barefoot in the desert. I saw you running toward me, through mirage and the high noon sun, with knives bared like teeth; fingers splayed out scraping the scenery; pillows of bruises floating underneath your balmy skin. Run away, run away. Turn around, turn around. I am no match for you. Beads of sweat drip from my swollen temples, colliding with the broken ground making it tremble and making me sway.

Everything is steady, everything is slow.. Bottled up for the world to show. Clicking bottlenecks against the fencepost, she throws her head back to laugh. The sun bathes her pearly face as she forgets the joy of the moment. The bottle slides from her fingers. Her lips curl into a devious smile as her feet begin to take her away.. To something foreign and new.



Hands, oh hands.. Precious, beautiful instruments of our minds, with the power to create and to destroy; to love and to explore.