The romance of a necklacing on the streets of Nigeria. Stack the tyres on top, and watch in awe as the flames dance like whores. Talons come quick. Fingers unlatching your bra as the rain falls heavy like bullets. Trillions dead but we embrace never knowing their fate. Crucified. Lynched. Beheaded. Limbs and torsos cut to pieces while we kiss bathed in sunlight that pours in through open windows. Flesh like sand. Touch so familiar as music drifts to us from where the insects dance with abandon. You swallow me, and I’ll follow you wherever the city takes us. Down winding streets to underpasses where future sin awaits, there’s nothing quite like feeling as if you’re stood facing the edge of the universe. Whatever happened to the danger of everything falling apart while we traced the footsteps of killers and kings? Whatever happened to the ones that watched us while we drank each other under the table to a time and place no one has been to since? Thighs warm and bruised from the acts we perform in the midst of an alcohol-induced breakdown. Breathe in death, and count the days you’ve spent hiding from its gaze. Dead daughters and cysts. Spiders scuttling across the kitchen floor as we undress stinking of cigarettes and rotten leaves. Shards of glass in our hair, we know only what we see and nothing else. Handfuls of your dress twisted into bunches. The body a vehicle. A natural machine so that our desires may outweigh our need for inner contemplation. Smeared lust upon your cheating skin. Dissolved in acid like victims of the Mexican Drug cartel. My need for answers more pressing than love. Depth perception as we sink to the point of no return. Stones in your gall bladder the doctors say resemble the comets that circle Canis Majoris. Wrap yourself around me beneath dusty blankets and smile as we cocoon ourselves from the outside world. As we sleep, the river overflows and the bodies creep closer to home. Morning shame not our problem, for we believe only in dreams. Isolate heaven and hell, and take what you need of both. No such thing as a panic attack, only one step closer to realisation. Inching towards faith, the dizziness of our lives all too real.

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