Of their violet tongues

 I do not know any more. No more lies. Of their violet tongues. They call null. Tongues stuck on themselves. Writhing in their knots. Drying saliva under the temperature of friction. Big Love. Your mind is read. Not herself in that impossibility. Not the usual identity. Al I have. Al we have. We forgive each other. Inside skin. There strangers. in our reading. In our Scripture of ourselves. Like ghost hunters. With tingling as a sign of life. Slow subterranean devouring insect snake.