[DoC]

±=Across=±



High above - but still too close for comfort - the sky of dazzling blue is dancing in countless fingers of heat.



And desert waits them open-armed.



Sunlight reflects in sand, and glass, and chrome, and steel, and eyes, and glass again and sinks right under skin or may be deeper.



Inhale some drought - and choke, just not to taste salt and iron.

Discard your vision, just to reach for the blistering rim once more.

Shake out and tie down your hair, just to find it full of dust again.

Succumb to half-inconsciousness, just not to feel your body slowly boiling.



Fine emery of wind peels off words. White noise of sand prevents all thought-transmission, stretching itself into past and future. Still hearts are aching for something - anything new.

There seems to be no void for it.

Comments

[mike ainsel]

Нра.

[DoC]

Хехе. Вапщет это типа фанфик был=). От меня даже просили продолжения и расширения, да вот - не соберусь никак.

[mike ainsel]

)