It has been so long since I have had the time or the computer to write with that I am sure I have lost most of the following I had spent a year building up. I am ok with it...I guess. My ego has been searching for other forms of the much needed daily fix. Moving to a new town, being the new hottie is never a bad thing. It is kinda weird really, Jackson is a bit strange. Either I have a third eye, nipple I didn't know about, or there is a really big secret in this town that causes everyone to stare at me. I have ok looks not terrible but not earth shattering...right? But everyone stares at me every where I go in this town. It is either very flattering or very creepy...I am not sure which.
So anyway I need to get back into writing, and I thought I would go back to the beginning. I am about to post something that I might have written 15 years ago but haven't written in this style in a long time. I am going back to where it all began so please stand by and deal with it.
By the way for anyone that loves music that could be a soundtrack to a movie, or life...without the words check out www.sleepyeyesofdeath.com
I love both of their albums and they have a new one coming out soon. They are out of Seattle and it is one of the few things I took with me from that city I liked.
Here is the new original post / writing...
I feel your body upon mine
Your right breast ample against my left breast
The scent of your auburn hair touches my nose
with an errant strand that tickles
Yet I do not move it
I kiss the soft spot of your temple
only to convey the peace I feel
You take it as an invitation
Your lips are pure silk, your breath
erotic and hot
Love feels like this when you imagine
what love feels like
I want more of this dream, this morning specter
But I am content in this world of mist
safe yet frightenedin it's ferocity and fever
Hot is your skin, flush is my face
a dream maybe yet I feel you here
The pressure of your body wrapping against mine I am lost
in the dream knowing somewhere in my small voice it has yet to come
Soon maybe...days or weeks yet it is not a fevered imagination that wakes me on this
Sunday Morning

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