Saturday, November 12, 2011


You should know as I do,
There is professionalism in aged fingertips
Gifted with higher sensory reception
To fiddle with the senses...
Yours, Mine... Some one's.
Intermediate self against self;
I tap my own fancies without moving a muscle
...and beautifully enough, muscle finds its own way
Contracting with its own thoughts,
Memories- Expanding
There is a haiku hidden in every breath released
Each ancillary component has meaning
A definition all to its own
Collectively, they write novels
Whispered in transit; constant
A slow-moving volcano
Lava-licking, permanence-sticking
Scarred in the most lovingly manner, within.
The inner tattoo holds the most vibrant shades
Melodious encasement of what two can do-
When they are one.
For all skins many languages
The softest, kindest whisper errs not
For any cautions sake
It wraps airtight in its magnetism
Sucking in every static clinging electrode,
The past orchestrates the longing of today
The hour that lives in the now has priorities,
Mine flow in myriad direction,
There is no 'stop n' go...'
I suck the bone of patience- daily
Knowing that eventually
All the stewing I do within my own existence
Will be tasted in time
When in the most potent of moments,
Trust is again found.

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