- Vol. 05
- Chapter 08
Image by Sharon McCutcheon
The Midas touch torched you molten, gold drizzling like icing along the infinite layers of your body. Your eyes close, hand to chest feeling your heartbeat – soul-struck and rhythmic – while the frosted sponge of your lungs tries to inhale, suffocating while all the world holds its breath, entranced.
You wait for water, pine for turpentine, thirst for heat to cleanse you of this richness that seals your pores. Every part of you is solvent, tear-stricken with the weight of preciousness, glistening in supplication, begging to be delivered from starvation.