Winston-Salem

My eyes trembled in the light, and surveying the field of weeds before me, I let slip my mental focus. I burned through manufactured glass windows with lust under the heat of afternoon and held my breath in ovarian thirst. The sky was as deep and blue as her eyes are exploded and green. I saw her face painted in cold reptilian frames of broken sunburst-crystalline as her warm sexuality crept slowly with penetrating fingernails along my already collapsed and mildewed veins. She felt raped behind my black eyelids; I know now that love is dead. The fetus will spread her legs in a dull grey melody to imagine shape within the hearts of insect colonies already chewing voraciously at the walls of another vaginal hive; deep, collected pools of seminal regret. Forgotten Robyn in this tenth-grade daydream--in such a bitter nightmare.