These days are life’s ways of floating in and out of my mouth, like clouds passing through a mountain, and my saliva collects like rain, weighing as heavy as a pregnant belly. I hope to feel you as soon as each passing second, but time builds as it passes during my wait. I have begun to burn with every blink, every prolonged, painful blink I take, because you are waiting in the dark for me. I can taste what has never been put to my lips, and I have the feeling, the sensation, of arms I’ve never felt. And the burn is as intense as every single time I’ve dripped from between my legs, every time tied into one single moment, longing and prolonged lust. There were days I never knew this kind of intensity, these bundles of sticks set on my belly, and now they suddenly, steadily burn like the purpose of the morning sun. Your eyes are the gateway to hell. If hell is the burning of poor souls who cannot be saved, then I am poor, and you are hell. But I warn you, you must anchor my body like the heaviest of steels, because I will float away on your words. I will float like a dandelion seed rushed away by a tornado, young, and innocent, and waiting to fall.