The tiny thrusts and a blunt fuel scrambled over the wet contours. There was an ephemerality in overdue kisses of death.
The interplay of sex and spirituality starts, bites the bullet and pushes the boat. The pungency of an elegy was a secondhand divorce with death.
Jealousy: sand was under the nails. Now I will find the remains of an ocean in your eyes. There was nothing else to be done than taking off the bikini top like a death.
