born in flames. by =corina90
professor, teach me the geography of twisting torsos and tangled limbs. professor, teach my the science of exploding chemical reactions. professor, teach me the language of love. whisper the rubric into the river of my throat, tattoo the directions on the backside of my spine. then shed the skin of scholars and embrace the world of explorers. mold my hips and discover the ridgeline of my vertebrae. trace the valley of my navel and the canyons of my ribs. whisper questions against goose-bumped flesh and wait for the voice of the ancients to answer in heat and chaos.
forget exploring, concentrate on surviving. think about catching your air as you struggle against the tide, as the undercurrent pulls at your feet, as the flames lick the soles. think about your arteries tying together and your lungs collapsing and death whipping around you so fast you forget the colors of life. concentrate on me then, hold on to me then; wait until we’re riding the jagged knife-edge of desire straight into the belly of destruction. wait until we’re the crossed wires and smoldering fuse that burn the building to the ground, the city into ashes, the world into the age of the new lovers.
