A Riot Underneath My Skin

The city breathes in gasps of neon and exhaust, a mechanical beast that devours souls before they’ve even had the chance to scream. I stand here at the intersection of 'now' and 'never,' my skin humming with a heat that isn't just from these humid streets—it’s internal. It is the fever of being seen by you in a crowd of thousands who are merely ghosts passing through.


You look at me, and for one fractured second, the roar of the city drops into an oceanic silence. I raise my hand, offering this peace sign like a white flag to surrender—or perhaps as a weapon to keep from collapsing under the weight of your gaze. My rainbow-fringed top is a mockery of joy against the gray concrete, but beneath it, my heart beats with a desperate rhythm that only you can hear.



I want to grab your wrist and pull you into an alleyway where the air tastes like old rain and secrets. I want to erase our names from every database until we are just two pulses in the dark. Your eyes—those deep, heavy wells of intention—are my only sanctuary. This isn't a date; it’s a heist. We are stealing moments from time itself, trading breaths for memories that will burn hotter than any streetlight. In this sprawling labyrinth of glass and steel, you aren't just an escape plan... you are the reason I want to lose myself entirely.

Editor: The Escape Plan