I want to fly high. I caught myself from falling, into a routine. I am unstoppable. Save me from the crazy thoughts when I am left to die of boredom. I need, need to move, to feel, to flow with the thrill of every second of existence. If not I am worthless…..
He reaches out to me, just enough for me to know, I am in his thoughts more often than never. The physical being is the inevitable, yet he draws me much closer to soul than any other being in this lifetime. His tone is vibrant, shocking me with the accent of his deep and sultry voice. Nothing can ever part the idea that we are meant to be forever, in this life and the past, in this life and so on. He moves step by step, like a cat, smooth with finesse, towards me, reminding me I am life. But never like that of his poetry. As without such, live no lives. He speaks so deeply I drown in the fantasy of his friction, in his collection of chaos, I can die a passionate death to its final line. And that I will.
Patio Poet
September 2010
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