I don’t want you
To get lost in me
Or even to get found in me
I don’t want a fixer upper
Or to hold your hand
And be your surrogate mother.
I don’t want a
Politically correct
Porsche driving
Nine to Five
“What time, What place?”
Fine Wine and Dinner
Missionary Style
Man
I want second hand jeans
Midnight chaos
Anywhere, anytime
Morning wrestles and in the woods
Once a day
Twice a day
All the time
\\\\Not sex, Love
I don’t want agreement
I want lofty rebuttles
Tape me down to the earth
Hand to feet
Mouth to Mouth
Shoulder rocking laughter fits
Blaring brilliantly
Untamed
Man
With a pathological need to understand the driving forces of all consciousness
Exposing lucid, creative madness-
Like the unhinging of passageway doors
Like the unclasping of a belt buckle
A mutual blending and fusion of madness,
Equal parts godly and erotic;
Leading to everywhere
And nowhere
Ending in death and through to eternity.
Intertwined like Celtic knots
Folding lazer origami
Intricately interconnected and delicately detailed
High on design and wet on holiness.
you can make the same love to a thousand women, or make love to me a thousand different ways.
you and me, we were raised by the wild.
remember what it's like to get free and i’ll be waiting on the other side of paradise.