Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Henri_Rousseau_-_The_Flamingoes.jpg
You never knew you were an ocean, and because you never knew, the richness of your humid breeze transformed our dour familiar shore into ebony ripples of panthers with hot orchid breath and thousand-colored trills of frantic plumage in an emerald vigor of spirits who stalk through the sun’s dream to render their hearts in proud sacrifice to nameless rivers. But I knew you, and knowing you I could not face you, because I knew that if our eyes met the vengeful angels would come crowding back, and I knew that if I spoke your name our shabby corridors would crack into veins of agony, and I knew that if I touched you I would be dying naked and alone in the desert without god. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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