and the morning light found him in better spirits...  

rm_7thpan 41M
1 posts
12/30/2005 8:36 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

and the morning light found him in better spirits...


back again. Things are somewhat better methinks,
so I'll leave you all with a sample from my book that might shed a bit more light on my personality(if you wanna know what it is, just ping me and I'll tell you)
Pockets:
I always dread going through the metal detectors at the airport, or any other place they make you empty out your pockets before proceeding. It's not that I generally carry about anything embarrassing or that I shouldn't have, it's always just such a pain to reload everything where it goes. I carry all the standard pocket stuff of course,- keys, wallet, checkbook and spare change, but then I've got the ever present pocketknife, an old leaky zippo, Several assorted lucky rocks that I give to people who need them, one of those little pocket tools with the pliers and such, an ancient skeleton key on a leather thong that may or may not fit some lock somewhere in the world, a silver dollar from 1879 that my great great grandfather carried, a cheap little lighter in case my zippo conks out,
a notebook and a pen for I am a writer after all and inspiration can strike at any given moment, peppermints of some form or another though I do hate those cheap chewy ones, a small leather bag full of tiny crystals- just because, and all that is just if I'm traveling light. At any given time I could also have nails, string, bones, more knives, bits of chain, strange little boxes, fur, feathers, flowers, shells, or dirt,and on very rare occasion something living. People always grant me odd stares as I deposit my treasures in the little bowls they give you (I usually overflow two of em),
and sometimes they ask in a bewildered voice "Why do you need all this stuff?" I fix them with an odd look and in most serious tones reply "Just in case..."

and a bit of poetry, though I know that most poetry sucks to anyone who isn't related by blood to the author and therefore obligated to like it...

The slow flicker and glide
of hands along the subtle lines
of her body,
The silken damp of merciless kisses
wickedly seeking those
Oh so ticklish hollows,
and gentle teeth
sudden and almost sharp
that awaken a fire in the blood.
The Can't- Keep- Quiet sounds
leap into existence unbidden
in the throes of Somewhere Else
with the rippling soft
of rhythmic muscles
and exquisite feel of
flesh on flesh,
Bodies gasp and wail
into the dim,
Lost
in that most Ancient Groove...

good dreamings!

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