There’s a sex in your sandy steps. A truth between your teeth. A pause in your colloquial conquer. A sputter in your leash. A greater lipped ambivalence. A love that digs too deep. An absolute in your toes that yawn. A perfect obsolete. Touch my ear, my lungs and keep me in repeat. Stay with me in folly and fortune. I’ll love you most complete. Wake like tides and frequent hearts, the day I shan’t retreat.
Joshua Tool – 12/17/2012