I have to get this thing going for now…
I can’t afford insecurities, I can’t keep this woman deprived from a long session of blood boil.
Twice down…it’s the third penetration…
I believe there’s storm outside…I believe there’s market outside selling the times to people…
and I can see women getting sold inside four walls…to be feasted on their deepest desire.
A slow blue light here…this woman asking if she is my best,
I don’t know…I have never been sane enough to compare two living animals dancing on top of their craft…
I need to get this thing straight as a steel lightning,
I need to give this woman my only liquidity…my only capable entity.
She is showing me her dark stones above her strange mountains…
and I am getting hard…I am getting blown away by this early evening’s sleeping maze.
It’s happening…she is closed and in a moment she is open…
this city never stops being amazingly raw and wild and unpretentious in love and losses.
But strangely this woman isn’t my love and I won’t lose her,
she is perhaps belongs to the creative section.
Fabulously homeless and enviously isolated…
I can bet my poems on her.

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Photograph: Google.