Desert Made Of Snow
Fire breather.
I can’t even peel you off of me.
Leeching all the bad blood.
Voodoo dialysis.
Your holy slickness, I covet you and your markings.
The devil is warming earth’s waters,
Her veins are coursing with heat and
She’s breathing all of it into my ear.
That language is as old as our planet’s sun.
It burns every doubt in my mind and turns all man’s lies into divine truth.
It’s enough to make a heretic bow his head in humble worship.
So that goddess breathes fire into eternity’s version of winter.
And in one hot exhalation, there is enough heat for something to grow.
