got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.

my spirit sings to you, clears and quickens. losing you is impossible

just start over not so much like anything was particularly

shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear.  what will happen.

a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy

first fruits hardly a handful, the garden

we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…

being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest

so, come on then, brilliant one, see, i’ve been waiting for you with eyes

may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky

Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.

the very idea that i could be