A Sunday morning out there that Makes me want to open every Window and merge outside with In-. I could eat the weather; it's so nice.
She smells like fresh laundry When she sleeps. Slight dreamsmile on lips that say They love me daily, and when I run my finger Over her latest tattoo, they part in a smile even Fuller. She stretches with a morning moan. Never interrupt a streching girl.
God... I hope to God that there is one So this gratitude is recieved By The Deserving.
I never pray; I never don't. I've never been outside a church.
All I have is the same as the richest man In the world. The currency is just slightly other.
Beauty seeping from the pores of Everything, and contrary to the claims of mr. MC Hammer, I can -indeed- Touch this.