Sheltered
    In her kiss
I unambiguously
shut
    My eyes
And sanction
       love
To commend
   My heart

She wants too but doesn't know how?
She wishes too but knows not when?
She was desperate but lashes at wishes!
She meant to but fears for another choice*
She longs but the latter is better than the former;
She can but the future is blind in gesture than action
She will if Grace permits but her thoughts holds her capture
If she doesn't rush she'll capture
#MTB

deftly I wrang them
my own two hands to best an adversary
I fought for years that was way bigger
more strategic then me but,
had one weakness, it was inside me,
and so I put those hands together
and crafted wisely a way to wring out ***** laundry,
twist the bad's arm
snap the chicken's neck, yes,

it does flop around a bit refusing to die,
in death throes it jumps to the fence down it around headless, no sense in that, but,
things,
even addictions refuse to die.
The poverty of a country existence
helped. Unless I wanted to sling **** there was really little work.
And the economic driver here is corn fields and **** heads the rich farmers have grown.
I don't get into staying awake walking up and down the street for weeks looking like death with his baggy eyes sans the scythe.
Hearing machine gun fire in my ears.

I used myself to get high. My hidden weaknesses. A hit of crack and a beer some ***** had me hiding from it.
I got away. Now with these hands, I am going to make a life for someone I want to spend the rest of my life loving.
I will with these hands build us a castle a small piece of paradise.
Our own heaven on earth.
And there, I will, with these hands hold and protect her and love her forever. In our small castle, that with these two hands, built.

I come here as much as I can
Love the sounds and smells that surround me
It is just so peaceful and I love to people watch
I try and imagine how their lives are
Are they happy or in pain
Do they, like me, yell out their lies and frustrations
to be carried out swiftly in the wind                                                         ­ 
Are their disappointments and regrets
washed away by the waves as well...
Do they draw pictures in the sand of broken hearts
Do they become a beach scavenger
Searching for discarded treasures
I wonder if they come here as an escape
To renew oneself and just be
One with this constant ...our constant the sea