In this Kingdom, my heart was my favorite thing. I didn’t know how long I could breathe without it. But I knew it would soon die in the palms of your hands. Outside of my body it persists on dissipating. Poof! Three years pass in a single night of dancing. Boom! The material world vanishes from sight. You cant breath. You search your hands for my love. You feel death. You step into the canyon and scream bloody murder. Someone calls the cops. The call drops. The phone shatters. The screen goes extinct. The body remembers touch. You feel life. Again my heart searches for the body it belongs to. My light can only follow you through my sight. If you cant see the darkest parts of me without abandoning your body, you will never see again. This place is shit. If you are not staring at my skin in the reflection of the moon, you are missing the point entirely. The point is this, you’re a shitty thief and your secrets are not worthy of speech. My intuition plays the details of time and space on my ceiling. Staring is my revelation. If you know what you are seeking, it will always find a way to stand before you. Truth is inevitable; time supports the desires of universal justice. Holding the scales in my seductive grace, I look forward; I get everything that I want. My desire moves your memory over the scent of my skin. You don’t even know me. Is that Palo Santos? Sage? You smell like the forest floor being swept by the tides of the ocean. You look like a portal to the star of my choosing. You sound like an open book. Time melts when it touches your skin. You don’t have a name. I cannot live without saying it aloud. I cannot stop loving you. The love must come from you. Otherwise it’s only a reflection. Almost all humans are very sick. Most bodies are abandoned. Most souls are floating in the sky. An electric vortex is spinning them in circles. It’s the most powerful source of energy imaginable. I can’t believe no one else is seeing this. I can’t believe her spark is being stirred around in a mush of stolen hearts. I can’t believe it is raining the blood of the only woman I’ve ever loved. I can’t believe I couldn’t save her. If I did, I would curl up in a ball like a baby, squeeze my knees to my chest, and never move again. So I make believe another thing. I pretend she was never stolen. I pretend she lives. I part my lips and drink the thick red. I lick it off her legs. I bite. I don’t put restraints on my imagination. I don’t play games. I know the power that I am and I intend to use it. I intend to reach higher than the machine can calculate. I intend to turn off every light. I intend to let nature have her way with every move my body makes. I am prepared. When these lifeless fleshy things feel hunger for the first time and start eating everything left, alive or dead, I only let them taste what I am. I will reflect what was stolen without their permission. You will taste blood again. But this time it won’t be my love. It will be your own.