Tell me, Telluride, sleep deprived in your eyes.

Drink a potion, drink your own, consume raw thoughts and keep the bones.

Can you hear me Major Tom? Survive the impact and be strong.

Three on one is still a game with no one judging and no fame.

Allan, Airports, anxiety, Acting, A love admired and aware.

Circles that need an explanation are testaments of your abilities - an algorithm within your triangle.

Call me, Colorado, catch me in your arms

I am at your table, consuming our conversations of candor and consciousness.

> Rants and Raves-  craigslist poetry
>
> You know who you are - ***** freaks.
> Pawing, slamming, *******, naked and swerving
> I saw you through the steamed glass-her round *** teasing both of us
> Your head was stiff against the seat as she buried hers - gagging and *******
> You look down and then up
> You can’t seem to keep your eyes off her
> I don’t blame you-I blame that mouth, that tongue and that ***
> I blame her drenched fingers and those **** me eyes
> Her bouncing ******* and soaked thighs
> Your chemistry was screaming at me as I followed in a jealous rage
> Headlights passing - turning my fantasy into your reality
> You *******, you genius, you lucky man
> I clench my hands tighter, anticipating your finish and mine from this hour long show
> Then, she mounts you and I loose it, I lost it to you
> Me, a lonely loser, driving nowhere
> She glanced at me as I pass your charade
> She’s beautiful and I swear I can smell her
> She looked satisfied and sweating with lust
> She feels you, she is on you and in you and breathing harder for you
> I am torn between her eyes and her body - both a shocking scene of sensuality
> Like you, I look away and then look in
> Keep looking man, keep ******* man, keep driving man, and keep her close
> Ill be looking for you ***** freaks as I keep moving on.

Typical male banter of which you think you are exempt-  but you are not.

Like the chick on the couch who plays the dumb blond, you are part of the culture.

Like an unnoticed concussion, you stain our brains with blackened thoughts of ideal bodies and insecurities.

You reek of stale laughter and wasted physique as you try to preserve your **** strap membership card with failing qualifications.

Since your hot wives have stretch marks and wrinkles around their forced smiles you play your fantasy league ; padding your stats with disingenuous gestures of matrimony.

With a stiff spine, we humor your talents the way your mother did- her icy tailbone under Friday night lights and forgiving disposition for missed curfews.
  
You draw from those years like a cactus in the rainforest.
  - soft soil - lacking roots and obviously out of place.

From above- you are an anomaly among the vines, masking your Cialis induced shaft by standing among real wood.

I hope you get cut down soon, all of you - turned into something better - like paper or a changing table for the sons we will raise to be disqualified from your clubs.