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Bony Labyrinth
“The woman later gave mixed signals about her desire to die/dream, but the doctor, in close consultation with the woman’s family, decided to go ahead with the mercy killing/living. — San Diego Union-Tribune, 26 Sep. 2019”
In a place constructed of full intricate passageways and blind alleys, listening took place.
The swamp willow, a hairy perennial growing spindly, mediterranean ear, bon soirée, curiosité intellectuelle.
Self-examinition, an excruciating attempt when marina fleshlights are forcing to portray a different tale on front teeth timid ballet.
Olive oil hand holding when the chemistry requested for clues upon mysterious facial coordination with bottomless emotions.
Little tattoo, Integrity on left lobule.
Navegating intentions and conclusions to solidfy congruent announcment that heart to heart tongue to tongue hand to hand air to water won’t have to repeat biological signs so often.
A sudden gust washed our words into a unpuzzled back pieces masterpiece, it was exact, poetic, random, scattered and many other interpertations I couldn’t remember upon walking through the maze of her body lines outer maps, focusing on cool rain eyes, since it was the only coherent invitation, my barefoot blueprint is dirty, I held my self from walking through her clear mind and pulled my hair to listen, in safe distance, sheltered from external lights and sudden gusts.
Intimacy, trust.
Holding on tight, while breaks were…
