Relative realization 

Starting as a grain of sand in amoungst the tame man. I’m liquidity in a search for Piccadilly amoungst all the crown lilies. Down from using highs, but like a balloon still tied. Cry? I’m not going to be shy. Making a little shirt, on the first night of a solar burst. Leave me be, on the ground and in the trees. You wounder if it’s punctuated, solideirs on the front abated. Peaking through the frost and droughts, my mother and her rainbow mouth. Tiles from tooths of lions and bears, we don’t have any other things to spare. Culling my sands and thoughts, I’m a goat in a tree of throughout the most recent emotes. 

Serving upon the teas that warm the cockles of my knees. I’m lost to the tastes of the blood moon, or is it this moldy borrowed bottle of goon? Sitting in the sandy beach, we take a swig each. I’m almost naked down to my feet, your eyes look like you want something to eat. It’s just a horrid ocean peak, and soon down the street. I’m sure they will all wake at dawn, but I’m drawn to the crook of your welcome arms. Tiguan driving in the streets, is this someone who will be there to recognize the keep? It’s just a relative, whom like all of our moments of monkey primes, chime as bells on a dime. 
Venturesome super bikes, roaming the highways without lights. I’m on your back, still naked as I was to the fact. You drive slowly as the fuel is low, and a place to go find is waiting. Is their something baiting, a man who is waiting? It’s a played high, game on a right. Dawn is about to light your face. I’m sorry but I can no longer wait. Amoungst all the fields and grains, a farm barn and gate sitting and waiting as if it’s ready for our sins. 

Right in the dawn light, the bikes out of fuel but not our watering flowers. So, into a broken lock and dawn greets your breasts like a tounge. It’s ok, that she shares our lust, it’s not quite like she can do anything else but light our pure lust. Down the barn, into the slight darkness and soft touches thus. I’m all ready to be with you, in must. Genteel prickles, first and you’ve found a old rope, tie my legs as I jokingly try to run. I’m teasing, tease, I grab your thumbs. Shoveling clamshell ways, then licking them with a sticky tounge. In seconds we have both come, and come again. I’m not going to spoil this, is what I call fun. 

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Discordant keys

Volunteer your discordant keys

 

A set of bloody maul

 

Trumpeting the local call

 

Befriending only whiskey colored clouds

 

Despite these loud crowds

 

Surprise and respite disjoint the thoughts inside

 

Lonely, mountain cries

 

Flowers in two colors in the winds

 

Send them in, send them in.

Mud

Given soil
Grey and wet and old
Silken or gritty
Mould to your skin so deep
Pithy and meek
Hidden toil

Sign to be written
Hands hope and given
Your given permission
One cloudy shape
Nods it’s head and makes
Gesture your to follow

Down into the mud you go
Open wounds, scared flesh
Burdened and blackened mess
Decaying, crying, hated, dying
But your ready for the mud

It’s sucking you down
Fear and fright comes first
Maybe something makes you fight
Struggle again, but you are so tired
And soon it’s all around
You find it doesn’t suffocate
It’s mud that gestates

You one day have healed
Your wounds no longer open are sealed
Up comes the sun and bakes the clay
Renewed by the Earth and day
Then you see your renewed

Clay doesn’t lie
So wounds of untruth, left there in a brick of clay
That, you will have to deal with another day
Physical hurts are gone
And those you will not mourn