Segmented Awareness Deviation in Book Title.

I wonder if the sunlight’s effect on my personality is qualitative or fictional. It never fails to strike the surface angrily, unwelcome for the brash introduction. If I am patient, tho, the hostile warmth penetrates my fragile surface and permeates the confident structural integrity constituting the majority of my palpable self, not unpleasantly.
Rather, the opposite. Beneath the flesh, sun rays no longer bite. There is a sensual nibbling at play among the soft tissues, skeleton, and veins.
My scorched skin repulses and does not belie the simmering lust I am feeling inside.

I feel as a lizard must. Unsightly and cold blooded to the superficial observer; wholly fulfilled and supremely radiant upon intimate interaction.

Now how do I explain this to my lover, friend, or relative? They take one look and leave what they perceive to be reptilian. I can’t help my misleading features, the resemblance to scales are inherited from my father and he got it from his dealer, my icy veins are surprisingly evolved from my mother’s heartlessness.

I’m doing my best to overcome this mess, to balance the charring outside and the thaw within. If I burn up, I’ll die but surely as this, without overexposure to heat my chest, my frozen heart will splinter.

It’s a delicate situation. Experience is unlikely to lend recognition. A keen intrigue leading into documented listening is my only salvation, in my conjecture.