The soap on my hands smells like open windows and bright blue. Expressions of freedom to expunge the absolute filth my hands elicited from my mind. Tonight I cannot see past my constant sighing, heaving, then that overwhelming rip tide of emotion crawling up my throat and drowning my eyes. I am soaked heavy with memory.

It's always, always about corporal desire. I desire hollowed bones. I desire more than consumed longing.

I desire agape as, celibacy forgiveness kinship

exploration