The human touch generates warmth.

It’s smoke that condenses.

It burns in the body and chars the meat. It’s what produces energy and originates life. Existence is an unstoppable impulse. It is born from asphalt. It lacerates it. It diffuses and it clambers like an infesting plant incapable of stopping and when it finds something to grab on to it sprouts. Until blight comes. The petals silently fall to the ground and the flames that were once burning with passion are now vessels of destruction, charring the roots anchored into the ground. Life fading and shriveling at the end of the season.