I’m thinking lips sweet brushing lips, sweet tasting lady on the soft curve.

I’m thinking movement rocks and movement rolls, thinking soft skin-to-skin embrace, woven limbs on wet terrain.

Ain’t nothing so fine as rhythm on the half shell.

I’m thinking mornings magic curves uncovered by the pulsing pulsing breeze.

I’m thinking melting into soft churning blend on beautiful hair swept face.

Ain’t nothing so sweet as rhythm on the half shell.

Lifetimes come and lifetimes go and too many stride through their time not  saying  what they feel and what they know. Sometimes histories win and sometimes histories lose, sometimes they stalk the night and steal dreams we’re meant to use. 

Jokers fake hymns and feign allegiance leaving  backstreet memories scattered with bones and dust and sad-eyed people living  with eyes closed and ears tucked in.

Take your life by the hand and walk proud into your lifetime.