CW: mentions mental health

Our stale memories lay dormant,

on our empty beds.

I can only remember the steaminess, suffocation,

abusing our senses.

Do you hear them too?

They’re chattering, howling,

shrieking in her dark jungle.

They’re watching us.

The heat was biting into our

skin(s).

Damp and humid-

like brothers.

sweltering in the sun, sizzling in our sins.

O the land she spreads upon.

Sloping and curving down the hill,

with specks of orange, specks of blood.

Inside her now.

Isn’t she great at miming?

Voiceless and funny.

All boxed up. Come now.

Image courtesy of Annie Spratt