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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