your arousal fantasy
is a catch for me
comes in sound waves
enters my head
from the right ear
but no action required
I say
just observe
so I
pull it up a bit
- the activated tip
in the crypt -
from the line beneath
towards the umbilicus
spread
- the well calculated
as if instantly
phononized insanity
validating
vibrational ascendancy-
along the void
and render
all the whatever
patiently
in less than a moment
lest the mind won’t interfere
amid balancing the belly
I half
the remaining
equally
push one lump towards the zenith
another vis-a-vis the right feet
so it finds a correct exit
while especially the
toe tip
beside the small one is affected to be
the immediate target of delete
I shut personal sensations
of ‘I don’t like it’
so that I can dump
with a pure desire
to return to sender
as is required
as much as earth receives
air insists
for its ascending part
an accuracy of might
a simultaneous rush of flow
a cause of cranial vertigo
lasting less than a moment
on the right
quasi ready to squad
the head
but No - I fight not
fighting means slavery at your side
whereas your side exists not
without that foxy fight
hidden under smarty pants just
a mystified puff-gloom intensifies
but gets shot
in one bite
ready to gobble the pretender
which I am not
and flushes oh the so lonely
oh the so broken hearted
transforms to a flatus-cloud
heads up and up
en route the dark
skies full of angry-clouds
oh my brrrrrrgghhhh
even they take it not
hurriedly move aside
an irregularly contoured
eloquent ******  
ethereal space shapes
softly
along the
cotton like subtlety
pliantly tight
so you can pass
while I happily look up
to sing the
Oh Lovey-Dovey
See!
You also have some use
Finally
and Yes!
The sun shines for us
most beautifully
diminishing your blues
through the enchanting
blue of the patchy

I gaze outwards, hoping to eye
the secret source of my amazement...

Such a subtle notion to be keenly aware of
my concentration whispering soft to me
like wonder washing over the clear eyes of a child.

Standing in the midst of a wild garden,
lost in thoughts and knee-high daffodils
rising to the occasion,
pacing the breeze in celebration
of concentric release and liberation.

The tone of my attention flows outwards
drifting in the vortical tumble
of wisping moments and spiral smiles
only a kissing kind of nature could spin
so effortlessly across the dusky horizon’s curving finesse.

Propelled into the Painter’s portrait of stars swept canvas
sweeping over my vision with the image
of the wonder-washed child standing in a garden,
gazing outwards from the picture quietly searching
for the secret source of her amazement…
..and I wonder if she sees me gazing back at her?