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life, i cannot begin you to describe beyond my dreaming self your how divine moments of simple nothing. your body is not, and i love it the how it is not. it is and not it's some muscles firing with hurt seething to ache so horribly wondrous. it's driving to the beach too early in morning and you're heads not clear the sky is so wide and the sun is barely. it is the uncurling of your fingers between dishwater and the winsome triteness of the caving instant of your breath caching in your throat as you realize the dying of your frail self, clutching furiously the mundane heady song of a coffee cup (and in perfect silence emitting the most enormous roar of surging electric stillness) . Life you are half terribly painful to. and life, you are half splendorous to **** sweating in the heap of your car behind the creeping sweep of raging vein. Life you are perhaps nothing. But lifE you are the most, and nothing hurriedly to slowly take between the unutterably tiny ******* of snowgirls their coldest song of closing lips, and speak something hot (something big).
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
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life, i cannot begin you to describe beyond my dreaming self your how divine moments of simple nothing. your body is not, and i love it the how it is not. it is and not it's some muscles firing with hurt seething to ache so horribly wondrous. it's driving to the beach too early in morning and you're heads not clear the sky is so wide and the sun is barely. it is the uncurling of your fingers between dishwater and the winsome triteness of the caving instant of your breath caching in your throat as you realize the dying of your frail self, clutching furiously the mundane heady song of a coffee cup (and in perfect silence emitting the most enormous roar of surging electric stillness) . Life you are half terribly painful to. and life, you are half splendorous to **** sweating in the heap of your car behind the creeping sweep of raging vein. Life you are perhaps nothing. But lifE you are the most, and nothing hurriedly to slowly take between the unutterably tiny ******* of snowgirls their coldest song of closing lips, and speak something hot (something big).
patrick-wakefield-1
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
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