A few bursts of soul, I give myself to the greedy Word which is agitated with love. I feel these immobile forms that caress my eyes, those of your verbal body, your epistolary lips.

The writing is dragging in you, cutesy, languid and haunting. She would almost hurt you but you want her. Again & again.

So full, so organic, pierced and released. I catch the beating of your heart that quiver in...