I once asked a man what he was wri
He looked up at me with the obviou
Women.
That’s all I ever write about. Th
one thing I could never quite unde

We sail away as the blood pumping
Direct us toward the heart of the
The soft currents carry our souls
Radiant as a woman’s red lips as s
We leave a world behind us in shad

I’m really bad at writing
my hands are lazy
weak with anticipation
of setting the page on fire
with my own hands

The wet slobber of a warm tongue b
As I peer off the side of my bed
is still another dream away from c
the empty smile of my hound dog mo
As I step foot upon the ground an