A lesson in spring that the short hand in speech takes the long road. But listen and learn. Ambiguity: snaked pictorics that twist for the luring—a lead into lush layers of the lengua. You follow. Enticed by the absolute ally—who, wired for creamy release, keeps the seed—does not sow. A notion that entanglements may trip—so let’s hide behind stale-mate metaphors—afterall, it breeds endurance. They say that time will tell. Then there’s living to tell the tale….the difference between ‘the chase’ and that of tail? Another story. Another time. Another fairy. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. No one said anything about needing a hero—what, with this hard-on for an equal.

spring is for mating
spring is for blind-fucking
spring is for love
and spring is for lust

Someone said to this, that spring is also for craning your neck up to catch sight of persephone coming home…so it’s about returning, welcoming and a sort of satiation of your winter desires—which I guess ties in to the fucking thing too.

Biology of the season(s).