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Damn this Man

April 7, 2007


Damn this man with his rode in his hand, a 5 foot pole, a 62 inch stick; a log, a limb, damn don’t trip. It goes and grows as far as one can look. The massive size, just grab a hold, find a way, get a grip, take a ride wait for the magic trick.
A sight to behold, a love all it’s own, straight up, stacked up, holding strong, getting deep, going long.
Damn that man and his extra hand, touching parts I never knew I had. Feeling my insides, stroking way too deep, finding the parts that make me moan and whine.
Adjusting to his pleasures, measuring his weary stride, holding tight to my real emotions, crying through my heart wanting for more. Needing of nothing. Knowing somehow this is wrong.
Damn this man.

Feb 19, 2007
11:30pm

Like a song sung out long and strong we endure with beautiful high notes and troubled lows.
When we’re in tune we mesh together in a type of rhythmic harmony that makes our beats great, but when were not so in sync its not so good.
Our range is expandable, our genre eclectic, our mood set by the standards we choose.
And when we make music together, it’s inevitable your call to my response. My hip to your hop, I’m sure your rhythm will never cause my blues
But the song we sing has a melody like no other, lyrics only we know, a beat all our own, your heart in tempo with my own.
A song written.
A song complete.
A song sung.

Between us.