amongst them I fly freely
No ground to hold me.
from worlds I have brushed against
clear and newly cleaned.
My middle finger gives cue
to whisper screw you
as my world revolves around
my eyes on your hips
because your beauty demands
it of my lost soul.
from a smile, kiss, to caress
A peek at my heart.
Peace in a vacuum of words
Abandons the day
A terrible tidal wave
of pure savagery
Intertwined, a mosaic
of feelings unbound.
dismal days stretch forever
as the coffee cools.
dipped in the frigid waters
of a warm welcome.
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 