Adulterations > My Love is as a Fever

She races ahead, fueled by the trajectory of her longing.
Luminous and lit from within she is beckoned into a vividly treacherous world where the thrill of desire masks the danger of being consumed by a fire that is gaining strength, moment by illicit moment.
I choose the language of storms

My Love is as a fever, burning still
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It was now, and it never was now
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The stillness where nothing is blurred
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The world is suddener
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Slow to silence
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No other end of the world will there be
Archival pigment print of burned negatives