Fast Lane
I am reading Breakfast With Buddha, by Roland Merullo. Time is flying. It seems like I have been here ages ago. And yet there's this new me within the old. Bertrand Russell. Passion ressurges. Calmly between our kisses and the surprise of you in me. Like we knew. You fit me. The touch of your mild and soft skin. The paleness of your music. And the shyness of my body in redemption finding yours. And then my tiny body occupying the spaces you left for me. Your back, the lines of your hands, your lips. The mystery you are. This puzzle you are. I like your passion. It suits me well in this desert my life has been. Your bring water with your kisses. You write your passion all over me. Let's discover you say. Me, a scared cat who looks incredulous. Hiding in the garden. I am a beast who taints your body with my love. Someone who holds you in the darkness of your room hoping you wouldn't let me go. Maybe this time my passion will thrive and turn into something. We danced Di Sar...
