The ocean of my mind churns in swelling bereavements.

Coming up on the shoreline, a vast infringing dislodge of your growths; you are what? —A wonder?

My salacious slices of “almosts”, and “whens”, beg to begin with me, and to saddle my flanks with juice-pumped tangibles.

I mustn’t let them.

Oh, Just to achieve a tinge of taste of that slickery distance—wrapped up in a road way of foils—that pungent climax, that movie finish: shredding spangles of cherry lipped bombshells.

I chew up my sleeves.

I have no plot line to carry me, to whisk me away on fluff dragons or a lover’s whims.

Coming up on the shoreline, a vast pandemonium of restraint.

What do think you are? --A wonder?

FellowMan

--

Just something I scribbled down, found, then decided why not post it?