Your ‘Guilt Whistle’ has a brier thistle for a crown.. redundant gapers secret papers..
‘Godscuse’ by the pound..
Scars when stars beckon dreams.. dreams fed with a bud.. Pretty women flowers.. love.. each body in the mud..
Countless treasures found in life.. others advertise.. no life can sully beauty.. as they measure for a prize..
wrastle with the castle.. walk lightly on the road.. my love is clean.. she hides behind a shade..
in consideration I ignore a liar’s mess.. in favor of the love I lost and made..
Pounding ever pounding no bill or taxi fare.. still rude loud insistent at my door..
Never scared just angry.. have some class.. or just a care.. who you are my friend..
What love is for..
Thought.. ‘as I understand it.. the first sexual experience is what forms a social presence for a human being.. if not all mammals.. in light of this.. I believe the ‘woman in a man’s body.. and visa versa.. is a physiological rarity.. rather in unfortunate circumstance.. or for easily won comforts.. one confuses themselves to lose the most precious gift of procreation.. for one moment I would love to have the gift of dissolving walls of excuse or nonsense.. to teach those who would learn.. what they don’t want to know’..