I want to go to the desert.
Dust and heat,
reddened shoulders.
Chapped and cracked
hands and lips.
dry dry dry
Blue sky.
The taste of earth
in my mouth.
Every memory
slightly burnt.
Cool water
is a blessing;
nightfall a
virtual cleansing.
Cool air:
the sky explodes
into a million
constellations.
dry dry dry
When the sun comes up,
the sky is alive:
colours painted above
the horizon line.
I want to go to the desert.
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