Hot cast iron pot hovers over the flame. A camping trip scary movie setup. It is dark all around. The air is humid and pulsing with the heartbeats of little gnats and mosquitos, coming to dinner - on YOU. Blue is the hottest part of the flame, after that orange and yellow, respectively. Like some little sun law. Like someone stuck their finger to a match and confirmed it. Dumbledore with his cursed hand, blackened and rotting, following temptations he knew would lead to dead ends. Cursed. Winter solace, winter solstice. Coming in from the cold and cozying up to the furnace, to the fireplace, to the hot cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. I like to make my own hot chocolate in winter. Feeling the warmth of the mug through gloves and mittens as the hot liquid steams from the top, warming my face. Heated indoor pools. Fogged up glass, windows. Frosty's melting now. This quest for equilibrium. Modification everywhere. Thermostat diehards.The carrot nose has become carrot soup, some standalone material separated from the whole. Electric energy that sparks and cracks between two people, two strangers. Dangerous. Marvelously on time.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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