a bit of spring cleaning. (a stream of consciousness extravaganza)
My brow furrows I don't get it (I never quite get it!.) The promise of sunshine of tomorrow's hopes Always, it seems— it's tomorrow. When sometimes all I really need is a little bit of today
There's timing and how it's never right. is it ever? Friends, families Those pressures so uniquely difficult putting upon pressing down and forever changing. Hours spent trying to reconcile Logistics and specifics, it all equals less sleep ...
Theirs, is a rarity born of an unwavering likeness recognized by words which morphed into a shared religion spoken to each other in verse, haiku or prose yet always with a depth of truest affinity conversations of a lifetime done, by way of stanza rolling lovingly into stanza words that unite their understandings reassuring minds, bodies and souls that loneliness, now foreign would forever be
an inferno-kissed desire courses throughout every vein at just your imagining blistering hot skin beckons sweat to drip timid hands, turn leopardess to pounce, stroke and circle where touch was purpose born and it rages and rages... and rages sacred velvety lips licked, savoring
Ohh the taste of purity in ravaged bloom by a needy and desperate tongue greedy for more—
a milestone? perhaps not for some for myself? I crawl on my belly across this finish line— bruised, bloody and brilliantly battle worn cramped fingers stained inky parchment still wet as final words silently echo and salted tears of pure earnest emotion ripped from the darkness of once buried now, tumble free sliding down pale cheeks and into