The hot summer nights wake up. They leave you thirsty for the lust you have not yet tasted before. They produce summer bodies for your tongues and lies, and they do not know any remorse or faith. The hot summer nights thaw the frost of your lungs as the fingers of the strangers crawl on your wet skin. The turns and falls of your abdominal senses reach its peak and all you can do is moan, to the rare pleasure that only exists if you will not remember them at all. These hungry hands and skins devour you to your sugary death. You know nothing about religion, but your will speaks to you about the sacrifice you must make to earn the luscious wreck of the heat. For every graze you feel is an amount of indulgence no words can paint. The hot summer nights ask you to cave in, but there is a hesitation in your wild eyes. Not any longer, do not worry, once you taste the cherry syrup of the genderless body. Tomorrow, you can always leave, but without amnesia of your sins.
WORD COUNT: 186
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