Splintered wood crackled and popped.
Splintered wood crackled and popped.
Oil-rich black sleek—cast of iron, salt scoured and seasoned. The fat of the land goldens your work and contribution.
A flame across my tongue burns, cleanses, grounds in acidic course.
The elements I need to burn bright my soul.
“Mine” said in pinched red crescents.
Scent in. Core to seed to threads to meat. Empty and fill with light.
The pulse—finding more channels to create from.
Your warmth against my ritual feed, piping along the ridges of rust and salt, sparks a new beginning.
Honey, golden prayer, searched by sunlight and flowers.
Truth revealed by the rub, heat blossoms, scent rising.