Sunday, 31 May 2015

Falling In Love With A Catastrophist

There is fire in my bones and lightning
in your lungs. When we kiss it’s like
a thunderstorm. Two tectonic plates­
crash against each other and
somewhere in the world starts
quaking. Seismic waves are quicker
than calling. Continental drift is the
earth’s defence mechanism for
commitment. Static electricity, like
miscommunication, is simply friction
in motion. I am crushing sandstorms­
between my teeth, breathing in
hurricanes like oxygen, swallowing
the volcanic ash of survival; to think
we are all made of liquid love and
some will never feel the force of a
tsunami. Sometimes I am stuck
in the eye of a tornado, others I am
spinning in it. Either way, we are a
whirlwind of skin and bone; flesh and
blood; bruises and scars. Laying in
the fresh rubble of our own creative
destruction, I realise, our love is an
oxymoron; a natural disaster; a
phenomenon scientists could only
dream of understanding.


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