Article voiceover
a burning bush, orange, amber, golden arms wave in your direction. your attention rapt. you are summoned. when i do nothing, i feel everything arising. my spine lengthens. i round into a heap, feeling as a sad brick sinking. i want to cry, but there’s more yet to this aching body’s unraveling. longing consumes me. wraps itself around my hips, pulling, pulling, breathing into dense bundles of burning. sensual sleeves of fascia enveloping not so delicate black holes of unrest. gravity in my bones. strength awakens unrelenting sensitivity. is this inspiration too? this wicked snake coiling round my nerve endings? the fire, burning. is this balancing? homeostatic intervention? what goes up, must come down. it’s a cruel thing, this waving. i need a little love to ease the pain all over again. more of one is more of the other. and i burn for all of this, wretched and wondrous. my body is a black hole of wanting. around me, reddened leaves wave with the breeze. are they still burning?
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i’m obsessed with this
"sensual sleeves of fascia"
This is the second time in the past week or so that I've seen 'fascia' used in this context.
Your writing style fits well with my reading and thinking style.
Thank you for sharing your feels.