a_moments_wares werewolf there is some terrain so complex, that only the terrain can serve as map, that no conciseness is allowed. To kiss her simply once is something you cannot remember, it will not still your pulse the next time you pass through these parts, for they remain ever strange, in the way a flower is both blooming and wilting, and knows that your hands are the cusp of summer and winter. my hand's quivering becomes your stomachs shivering your skin like a rosary, i read it bead by bead, sweet salt. breathe seperately, but together voice the familiar, the essential prayers. and yet the words mean nothing, if they do not mean everything, each time. your mouth is the alter of the opening god. your eyes the alter of the closing god. there are four seasons, but we pick the ones which matter, every night, from each others arms. If I hold you, i can inform you of the wet tense texture of cherry blossoms you've never seen, i can smell lavender in your hair without having a name for it. There is bliss in this negotiation of meaning. An equilibrium, bucking and spilling into tidepools, where the life we have described unknowingly, actually exists. I read your body like a rosary, you are an opening and closing god. On all sides of us spills the dark night, the millions of words and sighs we didn't use, when our kiss became praise itself. 020525 ... farmfish whoa. very nice. 020525 ... Mahayana [{fucking amazing}] ::im tasting stars:: for seeing would not merely be enough !~awesome werewolf~! 020525 ... werewolf oh...just me howling at the moon 020525 ... werewolf no redundancies to cling to, i close my eyes and seduce like the passive sky, overwheliming unless concentrated. 030428 what's it to you? who go blather from