For CE
It is the bare, flashing beacon, tremulously alight, whispering white into a meaningless face of a dark sky. Your voice, your nervous laugh, at supersonic speeds shimmies across my ear and smiling face. Across my shaking hands and winds its way in, in towards the white guardians of my slipping lungs. Into a dark miasma of pulsing want, into a heart overburdened by want. I feel your cool fingers grab my arm, pull it towards you. Closer, closer the heaving furnace of your loneliness pulls me. I shiver and burn, slide next to you, as you are broken, aching. My hands find their way. After all, this, at least, is familiar territory. You vomit sand, my searching hands find the sucking jointed thing of metal. It does not come without a fight, but what else do I have energy for? And the beacon winks, blinks out, and does not again burst white.
