writer | écrivain | ékwiven
Les jours se transforment en nuits,
Nous travaillons dur, enveloppés de civilité.
Pas de répit face à cette faim,
Imbibe ma peau comme les derniers jours de l’été.
Coiffé et prêt pour une prise de contrôle totale,
Obstacles, lentement mais sûrement dévorés.
Le pouvoir dans ma ligne de mire,
Lisez dans mes yeux.
Downtown sparkled
while the perseids kissed the night sky
Mars blazed
but summer heat gave way to cool breeze
Just dirt and a picnic blanket
yet it felt like the very definition of magic
Almost five years now
and still under your spell
bathing in the silence
solitude from room to room
he’s naked and reclining, like a Toulouse-Lautrec
lips bitten raw, skin clawed
recounting the origins of old scars
places gone
time lost
soaking in a glass of Malbec
soaking up the emptiness
wade through the emptiness with me, into the dark, absent of thought
nous verrons ce qu’il y a de l’autre côté
smoke-filled lungs sigh heavy
anticipation sewn through
soft flesh
into tendon
knicking at bone
bound and restrained yet
torrents of
desire
tenderness
love
pour out sideways
washing over every nerve
every road
lapping up all dread
all passion
power exuding from every second of surrender
ecstacy in its acceptance
“it is always by way of pain
that one arrives at pleasure”
guilt rises, subsides
a dark curiousity gnaws away at your insides
ç’est trop tard se retourner
hot sleepless nights
sweat trickling from every pore
shiftless in the daylight
in the evening, nerves trembling with trepidation, with excitement
freshly washed bodies swaying in the breeze like jarcanda blossoms
two electrodes sharing a thousand volts with one look
crashing into each other from the heavens
a hailstrom, a meteor shower
an ever burning flame
i.
spring has come and gone
like two birds fluttering through the sky
we danced love-drunk passed midnight, kissing, laughing, stumbling through the dark on our way to the car
ii.
lost in the darkness of hair/eyes/mouths, endlessly
holding onto each other while the world shakes and shutters beneath us,
holding onto others, hungry, yearning, subversive
iii.
will I be broken in the morning?
no, the revolution still pulsing through my body, my blood, my mind
as I curl up with a copy of Giovanni’s Room and welcome summer
Hayden Winston 
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