Nostalgia
is a poor excuse
for ignorance

yet it pervades
with a tenacity
stemming from fabricated desire
for the smell of ****
we're told
is roses

and it's blasphemous
to question potential "isms"
lurking behind the veil
of Saturday morning cartoons
and black and white family sitcoms.

Yet by the time the sonic *** organs
have lain into us with repressed emotion,
the holy spirit has spilled its ***** in the dirt
to traverse onward floating apparition
out of the room and down the hall
closer towards progress.

and we are left reeling
stumbling into the hallway
buttoning our blouses
and yanking at our zippers

wondering what could cause
such great haste
and we follow blindly
in the wake of the first high

or we turn backwards
and plunge into fading bricolage
as a means to cope
with the rapid and fleeting *******
of the electric eye
in its shape-shifting pylons and appendages
getting smaller in the naked eye
and gargantuan in the mind.

Clutching our *******
in great amorous heaves
of lust
or donning our father's clothes
in a mask of artifice
and enlightened cultural pretension.

Moaning for the days of youth a week ago,
the epoch squeezed in the space between thumbs,
looking for treasures in the trash
craving something tangible
in an increasingly intangible world.

The semblance of touch lost on a generation
who knows only of emotion through hieroglyphics
and never through direct sensation.

So we dig through the toy boxes
and leave Generation X puzzled
as we dig into their records
in Guns n Roses T-shirts
and high waisted jeans.

We're just looking for an immaculate conception of something palpable.

His touch lingered on her skin,
His breath fogged her vision and the conscience within.
His nuzzle tickled her control and made it quiver,
But though her heart was racing by now, her body did not shiver.
His fingers drew a map over her hand,
Her body gave way and was ready to surrender to this man.
Chills down the spine with his each touch,
She knew if she didn't move away she'd give in to the lust.
A smooth caress over her neck was enough,
She knew if she didn't move away she'd redefine her status of love..

As I age, the world unseen
Comes to light,
And the way I'd been
With wonder, cease
For now I know reality;

Curious, how time does fade
Naïve questions with a wave
Of insight, yes, and somthing more,
Of jadedness, we watch the score
But not the game, the point
is not the point...

Questions fade in custom-made
Tiny starbucks coffee cups;
A tired dog won't think like pups
For they have seen the world

I once went on a vacation
I didn't take any relations
So quiet and nice
Stayed two extra nights
Oh! What a wonderful sensation!

Emotion can overtake and devotion can motivate,
We all want to know our fate until approaching the Holy gates,
Watching affection fade can lead to pretty lonely days
Not knowing our seconds are being thrown away, and so we wait.

Sensation can blind us, but phrases can guide us,
The cadence may fade but the sayings are timeless,
Some 'bravest' are spineless, some 'brainless' are brightest,
The making's expensive but the painting is priceless,

Passion enhances through passionate glances,
Life is controlling, we're just practising aren't we?

Your hair was back but your hands were nothing but close. I can't remember what it feels like anymore to hate a touch because now it's all I desire. That look in your eyes was threatening but baby you could **** me and I would still give you everything I have.
The sensation of your entity twirling around mine only makes me wish you were here to give me that look one more time.
Put your hands around my throat.
Turn all my previous fears into sinful wishes.
Put your hips around mine and I'll scream your name as if you're leaving forever in my wake.
Stay with me until you come up and I disappear because we run nothing but cycles and I want all 365 days of this annum with you.

To know you're by yourself makes one feel
alone.
Nobody is in reach , yet they are inches away.
Breathing the same air , with lips centimeters apart,
But you still feel alone inside.
An incurable sensation.
Nobody at all.
Yet they are arms reach away.
My eyes deceive me .
There are people everywhere,
But my soul senses otherwise.
Going through the motions,
My soul walks on a desolate plain.
Drained.
Cold.
Lacking basic security.
My soul feels alone.
There's no room for it to thrive.
Only endless plains.
Plains that lack even the most subtle indicators of life.
All alone.