All the Little Things

The Eye:

What would you give to fully be Seen? To be understood? In your deliriously human entirety. A complex puzzle of experience and nature, dissected and pieced back together.

The Vast:

You want to be drawn in, magnetised by something larger than life, bigger than you could ever imagine. You want it to overwhelm you, the indifference in which it reacts to your all-encompassing desire. The best part of love is the falling.

The Flesh:

Meat is meat is meat. Why romanticise what is so plainly human? You are a person, made of flesh and bones, you would like to be with another person, made of flesh and bones. Simple as.

The Web:

Love me, love me not. You pull off each of the spider's legs to understand your romantic fate. It's infinitely complex, ineffable to you and your human machinations. You just want to follow the red string, hopefully finding someone on the other end.

The Slaughter:

It's me and you. You and me. Why should anyone else get in the way? I'll dig through your ribcage and curl up aside your beating heart, holding it as it ceases to beat.

The Spiral:

You don't want to understand. You just want to your hand to be taken, pulled along to dizzying adventures. Chug the slushee and relish the feeling of the brain freeze.

The End:

Everything ends. At least this way, you have more control. The relief that washes over you is no longer tinged with guilt.

The Buried:

You're surrounded on all sides by your lover, encompassed and safe. The pressure condenses your fizzing veins into hard candy and for the first time, you feel solid.

The Desolation:

Burn it down and only we are left. We are the most important people to each other and it shall stay that way, until the both of us perish. It will end as it started, with a rush of flame.

The Hunt:

You're constantly chasing the pounding, breathless feeling in your chest, craving the twist of the neck to check if I'm still watching, still five paces behind. It's presence is comforting, mingled with torturous.

The Stranger: