You're my tap which has no label.
I have never been a gambling man but I want to wash in your sweet water.
It's often that I become so desperate for your touch that I take the chance.

Sometimes the water is so cold that I feel numb inside.
And other times it is so hot that I can feel my blood boiling.
But sometimes. Just sometimes.
It is the perfect temperature and it sends a fuzzy feeling dancing through my bones.

It's the chance that when I turn to you, you'll give me that feeling again. It keeps me coming back to gamble once more.

...that'd be really cool, but that'd be like design and it needs to be real like flowing...
i don't know if that's poetry
because of form
but give me the definition and your vision and see if it misses
essence of norm
see if it addresses the core
if you can see it-if it beaches and catches the shore
or rather it's not flying or not to mention a soar
another dimension, poor me or that's if it's a lessened change
paradigms going gone but lessons remain
blowing minds, carnal damage, rearranged
but metaphysical intellect flees grazed
flees fire and flees flame
to go on, not no reclaim...