excrement on leather boots

On days like these, when character A talks to character B in furtherance of plotline C, the wind smells of memories, arboreal pornography, human excrement on leather boots, Melbors prep the lungs for future operations, the fragrance of dust spotted by fat rain, greased pneumatics on old machines, rust inhabited darkness strains against the heat, a body, naked, reclines on cold concrete, dust blooms in shafts of light, glistening, stars in fresh spittle, a vert strangles a dim corner, the body explodes in colour, corporeal firework of the corpo colours, shuddering in time, dark liquids spatter, intermittent luminous, in days like these…