Highs and lows, from the breath of chaos goes, Swing low, sweet chariot...coming forth to carry me home... Wait, home is there in the myriad of colors that await the eternal space unknown, Of your simply divine and often grating soul. Paths vary but they all carry the same undying message, Replayed, displayed are the parts that cause deep, shivering exhales... Just as the rising sun does not debate brightening the darkness of night.. Nor do I debate the light of an awakening heart. Tender folds of life licked in ways untold, Surmounting an incredible desire to hold that which slips through fingertips and toes... Even as each dappled display of consumption burns, branding the marks
tattooed like ink from your lips across hips sated with early morning
dew, I concede....I concede...I need... You.