|Blogs > mysteriesofme > Garden of Revelations|
You may be just a man..
but the thought of your touch
brings me to my knees
'form of the cross'
unfolds beneath my fingertip
asking for strength
that these feelings
are actually real
whereever I am now
you are there
I can't explain that..
I don't understand that
no matter how many doors I try to close
you are always on the inside
in this mind
as it is now in a church
I kneel on a padded bench
you stand in the front right corner
lighting your candle
as your eyes look back for mine
that then close when they see them
"Father.. I am weak.. help me to clear these thoughts I keep, show me the way"
Hymn of the Day: Wild Horses
4/6/2006 1:31 pm
As I now rouse myself to wakefulness |
(at the crack of mid afternoon)
I feel that now too familiar
Carly Simonish flood of vanity
knock me over like a one legged man in a cyclone
for the Stones olde ode to free running four legged friends
is a metaphor for the monkey that gets on ones back
from the habitual use of a quite mesmerizing opiate derivative
and if indeed something has
penetrated your depths
and has grasped that level of a stranglehold
upon your precious self.......
YOU NEEED REHAB!!!!!!!!
I hope Y camp balances you out good
But I have little doubt you'll return
A changed woman
Who likes women
A little more than before
Luckily you've had the company of men who (relatively) have known "what was up" in the realm of the boudoir. If not you'd now be risking giving them up enirely as partners for the many and varied games of the boudoir but somehow my gut tells me that there's no real need to be concerned of that happening.
And my gut is aways my best advisor. My brain is the one I don't trust so well.
4/6/2006 1:37 pm
PS: even if you are referring to a song called Wild Horses which was not done by the Rolling Stones I still stand by the sediments (not sentiments) I expressed above.|
4/6/2006 4:26 pm
Oh, I 'll do much more than pinch you... ~wink~|