"My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living." Anais Nin
Sweet touch of bodies, madness of the feeling, guilty of the pleasure. There are some times when you think that the obvious must be forbidden for not knowing it. Cause once you’ve got to know it you cannot deny, you cannot take it apart. And it’s like your favorite sort of heroine.
Sweat dripping from my body, sound of the rain moaning in my ears and you say you need a shot of me. Please do what you need to do, cause I’ll be waiting for you.
You’re getting closer and the lights are off. I can’t see you but you seem to see me. Hunting me. I’m panting. Wanting, searching for a clue. My heart is pounding out of my chest, trying to synchronize, sensing your nature rising wild and wild with every breath.
Off the wall, body to body, just you and I out of thoughts in the night, dancing on our music, dancing like no one is watching. Our personal music. Say what you want to say or take it all away cause there is no barricade that could held the moment.
The night is in the middle of darkness spared apart of morning with invisible little stars watching over the sun’s way. Cause something has gotten her mad and crazy. She’s soothing on Earth with thunder and lightning. Crying all over. But not us. There is a sort of completeness that fills the space and time.
What’s gonna be left of the word after this madness weather? Every minute and every hour with every stumble and each misfire.