Once, I Wasn’t Afraid Of Dying, And Then I Met You.

Smirking like you knew who you were, I followed the creases in your palms like an earthquake.  Upsetting my china and shovel that dreamed to dig there. A topical current of naked curls. The bass of such movement found no god; just the wake of your yawning limbs. Coffee breath ensued my kiss. Not to be mistaken with anger or disgust; I took a shower. Morning now fleeting, we made eggs and had sex in the same claw footed tub. Over easily I felt you pull to the porcelain. Two sets of keys; hoping you don’t catch me in boxers and potato chips on the couch. Also hoping you do.

Joshua Tool – 02/03/13


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