Gently brushing your almond skin with my lips
along that perfect curve between your shoulder and neck.
Soft bites to couple the kisses.
You murmur incoherently.
Slight confusion and alarm at being taken from one realm
and ****** into this waking world.
My hand gently caresses your thigh and I can feel your hand
slowly moving to meet mine.
Our fingers entwine
and you grasp it tightly.
A rock in this storm of conciousness.
Then you slowly turn over,
Our lips meet.
Your eyelashes fluttering against mine
and I can feel your smile.
Perfection.

They say drugs are for mugs, but are they
Really...?
Clearly...
There's a certain harmonic in narcotics.
When you **** on that spliff, or snort up that line
You have the potential to grow different each time.  
But each time this happens there's a point that you'll find
Your thoughts are synchronic that group you deride.

The trick's to distinguish...
The platonic or neurotic
The stable or psycotic
The chilled out and moronic.

However there's a rule:
Every time you grow, your reaction subsides,
so you have to increase the dose to match with the high.
So this is your choice now...
You can sit in a bubble away from the world,
content, but excluded as your life unfurls.
Stuck in a daze, watching that time,
tick slowly each day as you continue your mime.
Or you could break it, pop your head out the haze,
and with your thoughts unhindered do things that amaze

So this was my ramble, and here's how it ends;
There's no real benefit, you can't just pretend.
You'll find with no guard, no shield, no screen,
You truly can be whoever you please

She was riding me with violence
Then there came this suspect silence,
Our bodies’ short alliance
Had came to a swift end.

Dismounting like a trooper,
She left me in a stupor…
To write on her computer?
I lay there in a daze!

She looked at me with eye of,
The deepest green, they’re kind of,
(you may have caused this rhyme love)
Like a gangrenous dove.

“I’ might continue later…”
I struggled not to hate her,
But it’s not her job to cater
To my seductive gait, or my deviant- like needs.

So I hatched a plan that just might,
Render my plight more trite,
And make my mind-set alright,
To continue through this day.

So I grabbed my **** with vehemence,
and pumped with such experience
that the ceiling’s coat of cream just
might vindicate my mind.

As it was dripping off the ceiling…
I began to get this feeling,
My intent had been revealing
To this cheeky penguin's view

As I looked over to guage her
reaction, I'd ought to savour,
but I was faced with a much stranger
Situation than I’d expect.

She was sitting with a smile...
The umbrella cocked awhile.
She must have seen through my quite vile,
Intentions straight away

She tilted her head slightly,
and with a wink, said quite politely -
"I guess you're done now Riley?
My plan...it worked a treat"

That’s why I like this woman,
She keeps me guessing more than,
a stockmarket versed in Russian,
or a way to end this poem.

Just because we're friends
Means by no way I can't mend
The damage left by so many others

Just because we're friends
I can by no means pretend
That my love for you is nothing

The fact that we are friends
Has proved the emergence of the trend
In my happiness turning euphoric

Just because we're friends
Means nothing in the end
Because all I need is you

As my self begins to grow
More confident, now more so
than ever I feel the need to be
that perfect man I chose to be.

My misty dreaming mind desires
nothing more than fanning fires
of love and passion in your heart.
To prove to you I am the start
Of better men,
Of better times.
To show you joy.
To make you mine.