Sunday, September 12, 2010


Plan. Executing.
Waching enjoyment
Head back, eyes closed
Gasping pain, pleasure,
Something in between?
Above and beyond?

Always moving
In sync, but no balance
Tilting, but never letting
You fall

"Don't-step-on-the-lines"-kinds of foolishness
To me they are fog
To be cleared away,
By spring rain or tears
Or a well placed slap
A word
A touch

Watching you sleep
How did you get here?
Oh yeah, I made you.

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