Shrouded with barbed wire, we trudge the land of the untouchable. Enter At Your Own Risk, the scalding caldrons seem to say, oozing forth with frothing anticipation. A Venus Fly Trap, its tendrils hypnotize and tempt, then snap tight its kill. A funhouse mirror twists the thin to swirly and morphs whispers to screams. A lengthy fingernail scratches for keys just out of reach. Nod once, and I’ll unravel this entanglement with the snap of a finger. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?
Intimacy’s Devilish Dance: A Poem
Going On 40 