"atypical" poems
My mother said
*It's not a real proposal
Unless he gets down on one knee*
I rolled my eyes
And thought
**All that matters
Is that the look in his eyes
When he asks
And seeing
It's not fear but hope
And believing
You see joy instead of sorrow
Trying to look past his eyes
And looking into that beautiful soul
And if your lucky
Seeing how much he loves you.**
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
/*h'americans can call it a striptease, but in amsterdam, with legal self-employed prostitutes? we call it a cocktease: because you'd really visit amsterdam for the **** these days?*
isabella: the french psychology
exchange student -
hung up on her ex-boyfriend -
really in anime movies -
and that american i competed
with on an edinburgh pub-crawl
for freshers -
and lost my virginity to -
probably the only time
i had the ontological parameters
of your atypical man -
"hunting", competing -
oh so, so, enthralling....
(spot the irony mingling with
ridicule, when people "know"
how the modern man behaves,
with his caveman predecessors:
dragging a woman
by the hair type of cartoonish
depiction) -
the other fun time i've had
encounters with h'americans
was in Soho -
two colts, texan tourists asking
for directions,
or where this or that place was...
it almost warmed my heart
hearing that twang
of the tongue...
perhaps someone from arizona?
that has that - "mid" western
twang of the tongue
added to the bite...
snub the Boston high-mind
eloquence, like:
you really really want
to sound european...
never mind...
people say that water is tasteless...
hmm...
so last night i was heating
up one arm of scissors...
and sniffing it...
then licked the other arm of the scissor...
what's in water again?
minerals... a subtle presence...
magnesium, potassium, iron...
you name it...
so yeah... water is... "tasteless"...
eisenzahn that i am.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
.*i guess a loss of subscriptions is, somehow, a badge of honor, namely? i somehow managed to attach a screwdriver to my words... why? read below... English women consider motherhood to be a job... how ******* demeaning! gone are the days of womanhood attaining the stature of god, in the Christian methodology of encompassing the pivot of lady Madonna... perhaps a too high peddle-stool? i guess so... i'm not usurping the female status, but elevating a female stature, deeming motherhood an UNESCO status? seems it's too much... for some people... who make it necessary to befriend their shadow, and travel to the hinterlands.*
just your atypical pedantry,
a translator's subscript comment -
who's richard rojcewicz's...
regarding what?
heidegger...
das volk,
and the three derivatives -
volkhaft (populist),
volklich (communal)
und?
völkisch (folkish) -
i'm starting to suspect that
i'm tapping in the all things folk....
unconsciously, favoring folk
music...
see, us central europeans,
we bunch together and share
the most odd similarities -
i never thought that the song
herr mannelig could be translated
from Swedish - as it was
translated into German...
then again... Vikings founded Kiev...
and all these loan-words
of Germanic origin in Polish...
the only Anglo loan-word
that i know of, is, weekend...
hence, das volk, people -
by the way... German has "too many"
definite articles,
and only one ein - or eine -
is that the same rule as in Ęnglish?
i.e. N
in an example,
rather than in a counter example?
two vowels adjacent in separate
word, sitting across from the grand
chasm of... a spacing itch?
but look at German, i never get it...
DAS DIE DER...
is there an aesthetic difference,
and only an aesthetic difference
to mind?
bewildering...
if there is such a thing as a western
civilization...
that sometime
pompous obnoxiousness,
fair enough... no problem:
but learn to hide it,
feel it, rather then feed it...
it's not a question of a civilization,
but more...
an answer to what is less
civilization, and more... a chore...
just like western women,
notably the english women
call motherhood a, "job"...
it's a... wait... a job?
doubt was big in classic philosophy
of the Cartesian schematic...
so no one knows that
the French existentialists
brought in negation,
as the driving force to replace
doubt?
who the hell sees doubt
these days?
either the know it alles -
or the hush-hush crowd...
motherhood is a... job?
well... then i guess, being a man...
western civilization,
by that standard of logic...
can't be anything more...
than a.... ******* chore!
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
I need a hug,
but not a quick,
lazy hug
during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture,
but more of an awkward happening
with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights,
pulling you into the floor.
Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on
for just a moment more,
or if you should let go,
and release into an uncomfortable silence
that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly.
The sound reverberating through the atomosphere,
leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact,
waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion
to break the icy and heavy silence.
No.
I need a real hug.
The kind where someone who loves you see your pain
even though you might not say anything.
Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes,
seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises,
they grab you,
perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders,
and pull you into their warm encasement.
Holding you tightly
and safely
in their care.
And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment
of profound concern among brethren of a species
The kind where time seems to stop
in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance
before which the universe bows.
I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty.
Devotion that knows
should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit,
from whence none return unscathed in some way,
they will throw down a rope
a foothold
a salvation,
and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness
maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves.
Yes.
That is the kind of esoteric gesture
that can be so impactful on those in pain,
regardless of whether that pain be great or small.
And should you find that you receive love like that,
treasure it.
And should you find that you give love like that,
never forget how special and rare someone like you is.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
procuring lexical polymorphism
synthesizing atypical signifier
playing blue album
awaiting tomorrow's celebrations
adding complex plugins
altering element content
watching office mascot
wheeling hue-named albums
undulating forest growth
pricing those yankees
finding layman's chaos
enjoying another victory
reviewing markup concepts
ditching error messages
enjoying relative obscurity
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
the only flowers I
recognize are
tulips
denver-bred
blooming
fire
red
yellow
orange
photochemistry
defined by
valentine
bouquet
quite
atypical
yet
beautiful
wax-coating
iridescent
rain
mirror
fertilized
stamen
kiss me
bad
you
are the
only
species
that can
survive in my
backyard
I think I
love
you
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Muscles clench like knots on rope
prior to any wintry water droplets
dripping on my scarecrow frame.
There's a moment of cautious pause,
my mind waivers the rest of me--
uncomfortable with the atypical developments
insisting through western culture's handbook
bathing is meant to be relaxing.
I agree.
So after a thoughtful inhale
we dive in.
oo!
The siberian shock of the frigid liquid landing
on warm, pale-rose flesh
slowly erodes with an exhale...
My mercurial movements
and conscious unravelling of the constricting sinews
offer a peppermint bliss-like salvation!
The chill fades,
water wanders down,
allowing my body to interact with the clear solution,
allowing myself to be and breathe with each cold moment
of wide-eyed cool-headed serenity.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
I have been to places for love,
Travelling I have been in love,
And learning I have from love.
I went from movies to homes,
To palaces & even to fortresses,
'Atul' learnt to love from travel.
I visited ancient places in love,
The sweet feeling togetherness,
Atypical Life I have lived along.
I used to go to Ambala years ago,
The sweet loving girl used to wait,
Along her I visited movies & kissed.
I went to Jaipur & even Agra next,
The sweetest for us both was Jaipur,
Agra was where I gifted my virginity.
I kissed at the Old Fort at New Delhi,
The kiss at fort gave me goosebumps,
Attic was where the seductress kissed.
I kissed inside her home in the sitting,
That night was dead as she kissed me,
Above the sleeping King was the kiss.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
For You- Butch my friend from Philippines ocean away to Cali U.S.A
FRIENDSHIP is like Red Rose in my Garden.
It is not the sum -total on how many it BLOOMED
but unfathomable beneath the ROOTS thriving & Sprouting.
Purview as Emoting little some Some,
little Bored,
little Depleted
little sad, or yielding to the Inevitable!
Languish to anguish perhaps from lack of vitamin 'ME"..Ahah!
Thereby stayed in touch, in Tuned
following the thread with ME.
My Friend so close yet Afar.
Truly Extraordinary,
wonderfully Smiling
and adamantly Affirms:
"You are D apple of my Eye!"
Every time WE see eye to eye in social networking called Facebook
Through Cyber Space
The abounding witty comments of "OMG's," "Ohhs "and 'AAhhs"
makes everyone amused with Awe of such silly antics we so accorded!
A blessing, a gift from God.
So unusual Diamonds so Alike
a rare atypical like it!
..so Uncommon
Not Phony friends out there to deceive & Decry..
Succumb unlikely in Waterloo!
But You definitely a Diamond to my passion!
As girl's BFF, a Buddy or a Sweet chum or Dude!
Not a Foe but Pal Forever.
And just to let You Know , my Friend,
You are like a Diamond so brilliant
Found like a rare gemstone from a dust
who is never be a mere coincidence to bring JOY & Delight
to the norm & Conform.
So for now.. priceless friend like You..is for me to treasure the friendship between Us.
Thank you, my Friend,
I will always be here & there for You as a Friend in Deed!
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
i had a russian girlfriend...
to be honest?
it would have been easier to get away
with what i just did with my neighbours sleeping...
sharpening 3 kitchen knives:
metal under water then...
i sharpened them like a blacksmith
might take to crafting 3 horse-shoes,
cooled under the water, then checked
if sharp-enough over a fern shaft,
or a flower's pettle of made
incission...
this stone akin to 5pm stubble...
or what's called vogue shadow...
3 knives nearing the equivalent to 1 scythe...
there... my friday night...
sharpening 3 knives in the dark,
a friday... what becomes "atypical" in going out...
three knives sharpened...
placed under water to erase
the friction burns imposed on the metal
by the stone scratched into / against...
friday: and the 3 sharpened knives.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
*why do people always pain themselves to write as if they could ever be understood, when so few read them, and even a fewer number care to understand? and why do so many ably bodied ******* themselves with writing? why have they lost the taste for fresh air and instead chose a wheelchair that writing is?*
in legal terms - are you implying a play on synonyms or
just simply stating: d'uh, i don't know what
that means? ah, a limitation on the vocabulary,
an atypical symptom of lawyers - when socrates attacked
eloquence per se, he also defeated himself
by ensuring law abided by the law of highest eloquence,
and the rabble got diddly-squat, his attack on rhetoricians
lost the prowess of attracting debased educators
with himself the most debased educator:
and instead attracted lawyers... thus the law of the eloquent,
rather than the rubric of the least eloquent...
lost an eye for an eye, lost a mouth with it too...
i rather be fed eloquence and education
and coarseness to equally educate
than be fed a justice fed by eloquence alone,
because if this is to be the equilibrating case,
then serving justice will just be a case of speaking
in a satin tongue of readied rhetoric
as justice so called,
and when speaking in a coarse tongue
no justice will be made applicable...
i rather be educated by someone in a coarse tongue
than be brought to justice by someone in an eloquent tongue,
i rather not be educated by someone in an eloquent tongue /
i rather be brought to justice by someone in a coarse tongue
(the mob),
at least the coarse tongue is well equipped to
address the many who require educating,
unlike the eloquent tongue equipped to
address itself and itself alone, rather than addressing
the jury who blindly pass judgement, because
the lawyer's tongue is not in the mouth of the defendant
but in the lawyer's mirror of social strata of respectability
appearing so guiding, kindly tying a bow-tie of applause.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
I'm just
I can't feel my lips
on my face
so still
i cant move them
on their own
i can't tell if they are parted
i can't tell if they exist
i can't feel my hips or
my feet, or my lefs
i can't move them
i can't feel them
i want to break
i want all of the confusion, the disconnectedness
i can cry
but i can't escape this
and i can't can't escape this
there is no break
a million scattered shattered steps
stood stunning
chameleon flattered
I can't move.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6n_z-FdEkw&feature;=youtu.be
^unlisted
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
Whenever I come across a
Brother
With gleaming green eyes
The color of nature
I typically lose my breath
And all speech associated.
This type of behavior is not atypical from me.
Said the
Sister
With eyes the color of the forest
The color of enchantment
The color of her skin.
Brown
Like the color of the eyes of the tourist
Expeditioning
His journey within.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
here comes number two
this time I didn’t want to be through
this is the second overdose
at least I’m not comatose
first I had this headache
but then I felt my back ache
my hands were kinda trembling
my legs wouldn’t stop bending
my head began to tighten
my mom needed to be enlightened
I tried to talk with her
all my words were blurred
they asked if they could help in a way
I just needed to keep my body at bay
it was hard to breathe
I knew I needed to leave
in the car came more spasms
I don’t think she even fathomed
this is what happens you see
when you need meds to be
they ask me how much I took
to overdose on lithium
I just gave an astonishing look
I didn’t do this for fun
I’m here because I’m seizing
on a dose that was wrote
by my doctor you see
so I could finally be
normal to me.
you just lay me here to quiver
and you’re in here faking
this alarm is awakening
BP one forty three over ninety four
I’m convulsing, almost to the floor
my heart rate is up to one fifty
this could not be anymore ******
you wanna give me ativan
after I tell you they said no benzos
plus I’m on this other,
atypical antipsychotic
oh, I forgot to mention that other overdose.
I don’t need to frolic
in a white pill sea
that’s now beneath me
I just want this to stop.
this constant convulsing
the unwanted tightening
it goes from bottom to top
over an hour later
it finally chose to stop
when the blood work was fine
my heart was on a normal line
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
It’s my thang a langwitch spellproteckter go getter- sleek katrina stereowrite braid these monster tentacles aww now cute buzz pro bro-intellectual collaboration gush &fush; & fleek flecks firecompass full of grandiose art verses culture legions sing over and outty 5000 package cursive dialog primer kilameter romance make it equator atypical retro passion that ****** away cuss words p phucker! grade cheated tempo cuntgrunge klue move shadows to stand alones while in line to get in the barfuck gang outside party with smilie txt tshirt and a computer on diet coke kush telescope acid whatever like you feel like emitting or like have 9 thoughts about or like forgot about escaping like post fever social media to become a social sensation out of perception the limited yet coveted cherished harps and fairies and twinkly shimmery **** that doesnt growl or grunt huh? Speech please dont
As if i had the guts to stomp on a butterfly-award speaking dear diary fanatics central stranger than fictive red read (aloud allowed?)Which one. politically slurred thousand jury chapter grew some serious social security numbers and dyed them to prove a cutup battle wins the war
**** **** fick fock u
Mindseekers
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
**It's the, highly lyrical, pinnacle breaking, mystical, miracle making, atypical poet slash prophet.
The tricky, sick trickster, mister, tongue-twister, off the scale, Richter, freedom dream fighter.
A bit unusual and, slightly delusional, it's indisputable, beautiful written poetry.**
*Words flow just like a novelette,
Make music like a castanet
A master of the alphabet,
Just tag that as my epithet.*
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
Define a modern day criminal
While hypocritical political beings run our land
Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof
With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth
Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical
But we don’t dream
We don’t wish
And we fear
Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals
Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts
That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental
Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind
Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds
But we take the beatings
We’re let down
And we disappoint
An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental
Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles
The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain
A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance
Unconditional love and fundamental care
But we take for granted
We’re selfish
And we fail
An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare
Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant
Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe
Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants
Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so
hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental.
Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
March 7th, 2011 5:42am
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC
Give me just two of your fingers, it is more frisky;
When excited why act out platonically.
Skin me;
No need to falsify.
Your small hands hold an ocean, then tide me;
Send more white horses to step on my rocky heart;
Of course, sunk already.
Not a submerged foreign object;
Down there I am a reef;
Living for eons, heartily.
You are dear as nature.
I am thirsty, near which slippery cliff is your river.
In the ocean of your hands;
I am fished.
As time passes by, I am more aware of you;
I feel the ocean is not a piece of you;
It is you.
It is like you are offering yourself.
Why is it pellucid?
I can see miles away;
Miles away a dissolving wine.
Your mother calls you;
A crystal big cat emerges from your ocean.
A friend calls you;
You shut your eyes.
Noone comes around.
I notice that I am going to hear a sound;
I hear it, coming from far-flung;
Makes you more chaotic.
Vortical eyes.
Your face is too hot;
It starts to boil;
Rivers come out of your eyes and mouth;
Pouring into your ocean.
No overflow.
What do you represent?
What if you are an atypical?
What do you remind me of?
A bare white-bluish waterfall who offers everything has got?
You have mentioned me in your genome, with a deep shade.
Unclad is an old-hat, we should reveal what we have inside;
By playing with locks.
Suggest me, l will romance you.
Your touch reminds me of the untold.
You freeze, no flow, like it was in the cards.
Your scent, strange.
I should leave to buy.
I hover around you.
My vulnerable bare;
It is up to me to protect you.
I should leave to buy a huge opaque.
I couldn't find my clothing and shoes;
Can I wear yours? Is it weird?
I hear from the neighbouring flat, someone crying in the bath.
You start to tilt and smudge like you were a design on a rug;
I fold it;
Put it in a suitcase;
And leave to exit.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
I like to throw parties
Atypical of most sixteen year olds
With nice homes or
Any semblance of social lives
I like to throw parties
Without that horrid throbbing bass
Free of that hormonal chaos
That reeks on the furniture for weeks
I like to throw parties
The way that God likes to write our fates
Pulling strings to drag the misfits and the dorks
Together in one place
I like to throw parties
Where happiness is what is expected
Laughter is what is anticipated
Cause everyone there is meant to be
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
ATYPICAL GAY GUY
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
I do love my show tunes
And of course Miss Babs
And I do put a bit of product
In my hair, just a few dabs.
I don’t haunt the health clubs
Flexing on the big machines
Trying to bring to vapors
Our local workout queens.
I do like to cook a little bit
But, my house is usually a mess.
I don’t like angora sweaters
And would never wear a dress.
You couldn’t really peg me
By the way I usually walk.
I don’t lisp or squeal, so
It’s a manly way I talk.
I do cruise quite normally
When hot guys walk by me.
But, I try my best to do so
Undetected, and slyly.
My taste in men does not
Run to muscled guys.
When I see someone pass
I first look at his eyes.
It’s hard to get me into bed,
I am really rather choosy.
I don’t do promiscuity,
Not a backdoor loosey-goosey.
So don’t go giving birthday gifts
Of dildoes and leather goods.
You won’t find me in costumes
Like rubber and leather hoods.
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
Brent Kincaid
1/27/2015
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
The finger oil glistens in wide smears across convex glass
and the tired man in ***** Carhartts
asks the price for a rack of beef ribs.
The deli woman answers, his vision
quavers from the gristle and grease
as he dismisses the possibility of a feast,
it just looked so good
he comments, almost
pained or embarrassed.
She offers to cut it in half as
Dave the BBQ cook calls to me
across the fray and I wonder
if he wants my company,
for we talk long
about recent literary conquests
and our love of atypical diction.
The middle aged man
in the old ***** Carhartts
who walks
with the upright pain
of enduring parenthood
through poverty
refuses the meat with wry hurt
and wanders out of my life.
I drive one handed,
twelve ribs covered in tin foil
clutched dripping
as I peel back a metal edge
and gnaw flesh from bone.
May 4, 2011
May 4, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
ghost of snake.
an adoration
of atypical
young mother
fear.
mouse needs a toothache.
footwork
heads north.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
The forest, as if in suspended animation
Exploded in a cacophony of sound
It was nothing more than a twig
Snapping beneath the weight of a padded paw
Yet, the silence was shattered by this atypical step
By this stealthy dark shadow slowly moving through the forest
His heart raced!
His usual calm...replaced by an awkward anticipation
Earlier, a howl he had heard off in the distance
So familiar, yet as if from another lifetime, beckoned
Ahead, with the dusky sky as it's canvas
A giant white pine stands as a sentinel, protecting...
...a lone silent figure...
Carefully, quietly, he approached
"I can hear you" said the now, not so silent figure
"In fact, the whole forest can!" she giggled
His golden eyes, now, intently stared directly into hers
"I heard your howl", he said attentively
"I knew U would come", she assuredly replied, "U are always there for me."
As he drew closer, she asked..."Am I dreaming?"
"Does it matter?", he inquired
Her breath quickened, slowly fracturing
As did her fragile spine as her body contorted
Into a shifting form, that would mimic his
Strong and sinewy
Rejuvenated, she moved with assurance
Once again, feeling familiarity in this form
In her sheen coat of white fur, she now stood
Next to him, and his coat of fur that matched the raven's wing
They stood in contrasting, yet symbiotic fashion
He pulled her closer, and without making a sound
Gestured that it was time for them to go...
(c) 2013 Shawn White Eagle
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC