Symbols painted on her flesh, she flowers before me whilst uncrossing her legs. Black stockings and swirling smoke for eyes, somewhere over the desert a plane crashes into the sand causing a smile to spread upon her trembling red lips. All those unmarked graves, those lives that disappeared without a trace. In the lonesome diner, everything melts as she reaches for my hand. Sliding her fingers around mine, she gazes at me without shame, knowing what my heart desires. The sound of music drifting in the breeze, the two of us merge together as an earthquake tears through the barren lands outside. The sexless horizon of despair, stretching on forever, swallowing bodies without end. Shifting, colliding. Stripped of flesh, just rock and bone. Nude truth, burning beneath the sun. Bodies in unison, breathless and lost. Slaves to instinct. Scratches on her stomach, bite marks on her neck. As the seventh sun divides, the shards of shards pierce her belly allowing the snakes to slither free. Fragments of riddles, stalking my mental hygiene. The curse of what she is, poisoning my blood. The nowhere man they call me. A ghost, some kind of poltergeist. Infecting and possessing, vacant and massive. A hybrid of mortality and birth, all kinds of wonder, dripping from teenage holes. Gunshot wounds and trauma, all traces of extinction, smeared over her pretty little chin. The rapture of years, memoirs of nothingness, like grains of sand on a beach. The grip of her hand on those balmy summer nights, the gaze of wondrous eyes. Spirals of autumn wonder, the madness of erotica, creeping up her thigh. The shells of all the non believers, flowering like roadside bombs. Hanging heads, swinging from reaping trees. Legion, coveted and consumed. Contorted bones and aching loins. The taste of vanilla, dripping from the corner of her mouth. The weight of her love. Time is a plague and plague lovers shine bright. Through the blurred arches of imperfection, her body sways as the air ignites. In flames, burning like hell, my fists plunge into the dry earth. How many have been before me, how many have stood on the threshold, begging for the light to guide them to redemption. How many have begged to be free of their mothers curse. Folding time and space, her dreams soaked in chloroform. Rock and bone showing, oil glowing like blood. Undressing as you stand there stuttering, the snakes slide around her ankles. A beacon of want, pornographic and ripe. The fruit you choke upon, the sweetness that tickles your insides. The passage she offers, the birds that sing upon the shore. Sucking her breast like the child you are, you’re feeding on life. Like the rivers that flow back to the source, you’re trying to get back, back to where you belong. The infinite abyss, calling you home. Resting your head against her chest, the stars blink from all those eons away. On your knees, you sit upon her hips and ask why you can’t be forever, why you can’t be eternal. There’s something in between sex and death. Something that’s just beyond your understanding.