She sticks to your skin like sleep on leather
She's potent as gin and light as a feather
She's spending the night in your temporal lobe
She'll dance in your head, in her sequin robe
A craftsman of fantasy
Your minds beautiful synergy
She's a brainwave
****** electricity
She makes cave paintings on bones
Her pictures mystic and unknown
So much like primitive nature
Running over with every tone
Your mind is domicle to her
Your mind is canvas to her
She grows like wanted weeds, like the clung dirt on seeds
She crawls the minds walls, She's vines all in a sprawl
She's your minds mistress
Making mental mischief
Thoughts you have are her's through you
She's there like glue to intrigue you
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
She sticks to your skin like sleep on leather
She's potent as gin and light as a feather
She's spending the night in your temporal lobe
She'll dance in your head, in her sequin robe
A craftsman of fantasy
Your minds beautiful synergy
She's a brainwave
****** electricity
She makes cave paintings on bones
Her pictures mystic and unknown
So much like primitive nature
Running over with every tone
Your mind is domicle to her
Your mind is canvas to her
She grows like wanted weeds, like the clung dirt on seeds
She crawls the minds walls, She's vines all in a sprawl
She's your minds mistress
Making mental mischief
Thoughts you have are her's through you
She's there like glue to intrigue you
Not one of my better poems, but a combination of a love for amateur neurology and having writings concerning women.
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