[Young Male Voice....inebriated, perhaps]
Slit of the tongue Frush guppy !
I sped to you today
So-nah
To treat you to a working meal and...
You’re not there !
You remained a way yonder
Sense-able to my.... me
but too.... mirage n’ fragrant for any talk
this side of miz..mizcomunication
Stay thus sway !
I’ve decided
Is decried
Please...and I’ll love you
as just what I can imagine you to be
...uh..so, yeah...see you tomorrow maybe
Agunda! AGUNGDA !
- voice out man

Her feminine hands
Ran through her shimmering,
Golden locks

The gentle strands
Felt soft
Between her fingers

Her gray-mint eyes closed
and she could almost hear
The frush of the golden yarn
As it rubbed up against itself

The smokey scent
Of the California air
Caressed her senses

And the silent taste
Of her saliva
Followed soon thereafter

Wind blow blow where you will,
Find your strength and rush.
Howl and whistle through hill,
Send your epistle and crush.
For yet am I standing still,
Not battered or broken as frush.

Tempest storm of life oh!
Cruelest waves of pain,
Most eagerly do you show,
The days I rue our gain
I wish I didn't know.
And ne'er shall we twain.