Time is creeping up on you.


you are magnificentPlease forgive me if I stained your waistcoast siryou are magnificent
I know it cost you a pretty penny
but you are never short of them.
To stand in front of you, and not kiss your feet would be a personal sacrilege I almost could not bear.
Please forgive us if we interrupted your silent recollection
time when expertly manipulated and molded by you
is worth preserving in tact and solitary
for generations to admire and observe.
Please forgive an insolent entry to your private bed chamber
Like the Raj you


love letter to a kindy teacherThis is in every utterly dashing and spectacular sense of the wordlove letter to a kindy teacher
an amazing enrapturing absolutely
consuming love.
In the pages of your notebooks chemical equations
misguided lyrics about girls liking other girls and their boyfriends
Watching boys in tight office pants
Professional glances
And old school pocket watches
&


feetThere are appendages That we cover in wool silk and leather And bare out to all the world Like reservoirs And mountains That tourists make a fuss over.feet
There are insignificant sights where we slowly Sigh waiting for some semblance of change.
Fingers that hold my hand in the best way he knows. And I could watch for months those fingers alone
Sitting so perf


lackingSuppose I crushed your insideslacking
French pleas to retreat
and ask for mercy
would deny your English nature.
I enjoy men who wave white flags
and argue brazen illogic.
I would not hesitate to take
the strings attached to your
finger
and to slowly peel
it away.
Find some other excuse or story to tell
priceless
yet?
--
"Almost immediately he dreamt of a beating heart. He dreamt it as active, warm, secret, the size of a closed fist, a garnet colour in the penumbra of a human body as yet without face or sex; with minute love he dreamt it, for fourteen lucid nights."
--
"Almost immediately he dreamt of a beating heart. He dreamt it as active, warm, secret, the size of a closed fist, a garnet colour in the penumbra of a human body as yet without face or sex; with minute love he dreamt it, for fourteen lucid nights."
Your gallery is absolutely lovely. : )
--
Travel far enough away, my friend, and you will discover something of great beauty: yourself.
O, world's a stage, they say.
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