x Molten x
Towering trees rock in the burning, radiating afternoon.
Buccaneering birds hastily hurtle in defiant droves, through the thickening sky, like a ballad of bullets from a munificent machine gun.
The blazing rays from the sangria sun reflect from my zipper lighter, onto your dashboard.
A dragonfly dances through the slow motion smoke; its skimming wings lightly brush against the flushing windscreen.
Its blatant buzz rings and roams in our erogenous ears, to pertinently complement the thralling thud of our hailstorm hearts.
The migraine sky hyperventilates, to the molten sounds of our aroused propositions, within our sensual souls.
x JJE x