Her hula-hoop sombrero-ed like spirals of galaxy dust, a hippy hue that held train-wreck breath for burgeoning slacks in the room, a catalyst of reactions that made the universe wait for her stop. He watched as if she didn't know his atoms had birthed the chemicals of sex. And, just for that it was unbuttoned, the barefooted pride of exposed skin - her hips often rolled the clocks of time like that two at a time, heedless as the fermented wheat gems that bounced around the planets in her gut. It was the bursts of orgone energy that ripped wormholes in her pants, the ratcheting gears of dawn that lured a morning suck and fuck, her endearing laugh that lead to tingly shotgun highs billowing there in the night as a culmination of his and her' auras spinning webs of light across the room: They both held out for the belly of the keg to burst For inebriation to drive them back to together For bees to pollinate a sticky affection so they'd never leave They...
As old men in our mid-twenties, let's be rebellious, let's stay up past ten, let's put down the good ol' book we can't get away from, and denounce sleepy eyes. We'll give it up to reading outside the lines of our circumpolar stars, page-fold the space in-between and hold it out 'til dawn. Don't breathe here! Just wait... for the august of another sunrise.
The backyard hurries to burry the end of a drag; she hears the echo of an eight and a half inch sole on faded neon black: The pillow of footsteps coming home The little pockets of the street that collect his cigarette ash like rain. They're praying for failed discoveries: The yellow residue that bites at the webbing of peace fingers, The nonexistent twitch of their lips, before the tainted kiss, Like the worlds wasted their nights on ABC sitcoms. Like the drift of steam from hot Octobers on ice. Like the coat hook hold on a season 11 years ago. There's a conversation starving in the attic of their dreams; Dead ends still being filed with the gritty overbite of teeth. It's where the dusty pages of the bible taught them how to lie to themselves, taught them how to negate distances of love with god; His thumb ended up closer to the Marb Reds than her side of the bed. Her mind on the USA Golds he won't ever know about. Their smoldering like gu...
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