Elegant Disarray

Their is a primal darkness that allows me convulse against hard, damp flesh,
A animalistic rage in the art of peeling back the layers of thought, fondling each piece between our fingertips memorizing the fragments that so easily become lost in the cracks beyond a premise set to keep us grounded.
Flight is taken towards and aside those that enjoy fighting against the path of the purposeless wind.
The devil embraces us in molten hands but we are more then ash but that which rises from the barren to become the storm.
Perceptions are many to speak and many to choose, we choose to love in moments, in the hours granted, though hours may carry us from one lover to another, and on...still we love them each in unique and precise yet shaky strokes.
Life is but a conversation and I shake against its chest stuttering foreign words, listening to the new morning and embracing it with an open soul.