I sense something off.
A partical of a strand to the millionth degree.
Some sence is not making sense.
If i feel with my heart
If i see with my eyes
If i feel with my touch
If i hear with my ears
If i taste with my tounge..
Yes, let me taste with my tounge.
Let me feel the vibrations of your heartbeat so rhythmatically in tune with mine.
Let us paint this white flag red
With all our love and bloodshed.
Let me sense your sences until yours is mine and mine is yours.
Until two hearts beat as one
Until the swagger of our hips collide
Because yes, making sense is what we do best when it comes to our sences.

Holy smokes I am losing my cool
Wrapped up in tatters in what I would
Call a ****** up existence
But I do what I do
And a can what I can
So I can preserve what I need
To survive
My feet coil together
Small toes against small toes
Rhythmatically sensing one another
In a calming motion
Allowing the electric to go someplace

This is when I wish I had a pen
To let you know this is an honest letter
From me to you
Something rare and raw and pure
Something so rare