Love tabernacled in all of us, residing somewhere between eroticism and oblivion. He extracted a pyx of snuff and undid It’s clasp. By noon we were walking along the railbed. Fronds heavy on the side and garbage, broken bottles, and browning condoms scattered across ties. Declining into jerky shapes Light-speckled beneath the canopies of Spanish moss where a sun-laved tree resided sombrely squatting amidst bison skulls and mummified remains of man.
Their face a stale vestige of doomed beauty My companion poled himself across the grass, fording to the heaps of bones littering the ground. Brutality’s mosaic in her serene grandeur guarded by the burled trees and sloping hills of red clay.
We set a fire after some time walking. There in the open air amidst the smell of loathing reserved for night and her kind. The starlight dappling the mountain peaks That were Silhouetted in the distance.
When he powdered his nose the snuff pyx snapped closed and the crackling wood fire lay whispering to night’s kin. Those desolate phantoms of nature’s perdition that lurk in the depths of fraying memories, those dank ossuaries of the self entombed daily.
Our heads laid back in our sleeping bags imagining the sun-bleached facades of cities abandoned. In time to be forgotten. For time has no tailer to hem him up come morning.
Brilliantly written as always. Your writing voice completely opens up the world to the reader and invokes a sense of crawling wonder.
Love the mood and setting you established here and feel this one could grow bigger, maybe into a short story?