easy heat

no reason comes close to the collision of our hungered flesh. insatiable— though we take less than what we should have.

modesty? far from it. rather, a convenient commodity.

fleeting as a stray spark of flame, but nevertheless, enough for a scrap of warmth.

as we set ablaze the cheap fleece that weaved through the pair of tangled limbs, I sing to the highest of heavens atop the pillar that we raised for our purpose.

persisting? no, absolutely not. harrowing? maybe so. but for what do I need to try and moralize?

the hour is imminent, and so the embers will wane and return to frigid coals as they always were. with all that will remain are the ashes on skins and blisters that mar our hides— gone as soon as the next sunrise.

and by then, another wildfire I’ll follow.