Flesh

Not a single word was necessary the night we desired flesh again; everything was reduced to grimaces, gazes, sweat and blood. With tension and roughness, we mutilated with our mouths some forgotten weak tissues, reinforcing the idea that what is sharp tends toward the new. While the excess of protein induced us to frenzy, each erection forced us into onanism, into feeling platonic love in the veins, in the jaws, in the hemorrhagic warmth of the tepid present. The pretexts that limited the past, vanished under the arrogance of desire, each bite contained more taste of iron, more force, more delirium. Across the entire body, the tension invited redemption, invited letting go of the pursuit of youth, but pleasure is always more powerful than residual patience. A penultimate bite before the end, a final gaze of unanimous approval, and then, the Epiphany… Regret is the most vegan of all feelings.