Call me antediluvian, 
But I want to hold you by your hand
Kiss you on the cheek
Whisper, I love you
Call me delirious
I'm just in love.

‎It's hard to say,
That your body animates me
It's hard to say, 
That I want you

It's hard to say, 
That I want to caress your every flaw with my tongue 
It's hard to say, 
That I want to make love to you.

It's hard to say
What words cannot do

Like art
I want to draw you
Trace every inch of you with my fingers
Read every bit till your breath hinges
Watch every part till your toes curl.

It's hard to say,
What words cannot do.

Let me taste your thoughts with my tongue
Inhale the sounds you make
Exhale and grunt to the way your back archs

It's hard to say
What words cannot do.

When there's so much to do
That words cannot say

Roads are more a mess today, construction everywhere, the world's gone and got itself in a big **** hurry.

I like the fog during the night
To smell the ice cold and feel the cold
To see that white cloud between my skin
Tangling my brown hair
I like to smell the fog and how he makes a sinister air
To look and feel that breeze covering the old trees and autumm leaves
I like the fog and to feel the cold entering my troat
To say that it reminds me of winter
I like the contrast between the foggy white and the city's light
But I love the scent of fog

- d.a

After every time you say to me
It was good to see you
But you know it was more than that.

You’ve also said we have the same eyes
but we don’t see things the same.

If only my hand could craft words to be
the source of us instead of us being the
source for my words.

Using my hands to paint
the reality I want instead
of what I see. Giving life
to us instead of a life being
taken from us.

If you can’t read me
at least you can read
what I create after
you’ve touched me.

I stare at the veins so prominent on my wrists –
think of the sea of blood rushing through my body with lots of twists.
The cold metal blade I am twirling in my hand
screams to be used to cut open and release the ocean of red – I don’t quite understand
why I want to bleed out and become a sinking ship or consent myself to die.
This desolation has me wrapped around its finger and the monster of destruction I must abide by.

When I asked you for the naked truth,
It was not an invitation,
To strip bald at Starbucks,
And opera sing the national anthem.

Although I’m sure the  ovation and applause was exhilarating,
And my god, I was certain you were going to fall off our table,
In fact, I now think a birthday suit should be mandatory,
For everybody when they sing the nation's song.


Never the less,
In future I will choose my clichés more carefully.
God knows what you’d have done
Had I asked you to bare your soul.
It was an unsettling first date, yet I am intrigued.
Text me if this Friday works for you.