This is Wires, and we will cross again.
Did you and Mojo break the ice?
If I haven’t already told you, you look super, strange.
Super if you look strange: extraordinary.
Are you wearing what you said you would wear?
Everything should be the color of your skin.
It has those remarkable patterns:
Forget the deluge of lace this moment...
I see your ideas and things get REAL again,
And I do remember the words to eat.
They probably get a great view
Of the Sunrise and Set from the aperture, swimming through me.
I do recall taking furious notes negotiating a turning row
With a musical truckload of girls, overjoyed with the well of flesh.
Encore: Kissing and hollering over limber lip loops aching,
And they might have all been you.
I had a chat with your mirror once. In becoming your face it learned to think and speak. It lifted your chin and gave your face a cool light. It made one and then another precious bare leg.
I stared at your big toe, your strut, your depressions, the one-liners; your sultry something else by no means forgotten.
I say this without regret. You come on with this beautiful bandage and heart giving in, confided. You are here and every head Eros:
Would by the word thunderous lovemaking.
Would by the tongue the display of everything.
At hand then, would you want to run?
Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit