I have ventured between her fleshy shade, bearing tadpole and the spade,shifting, vibrating frame-the sweet mystique-the stories made.I've pushed in her ocean's edge from symbolic gray swings my sledge. A plunging force,a striking wedge. Soft and curling lips turn red. I've heard the sounds from the deepest fathoms,some dark escape out the well of phantoms.Sensual cries feeding my twisitng actions.Commanding"vsgina forge" with sliding traction.