Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Dance in the flames
Lady GaGa - The Edge of Glory (Bollywood Remix by Desi Hits!)
The vial parts
Curtain splits
If only for a moment
Everlasting frozen
But it is enough
In microseconds frozen
The glory
The possibilty
That a world
Might exist
Be created
For a moment
There is no past
No present
Only the now
Continuing forever
Forever
The draw of her eye
The beckoning question
Of her
Smile
So fierce
Come and dance
Dance
With
Me
For now
For the past
For the evermore
Come and dance
Friday, July 20, 2018
Dancing Water
Santana-Maria Maria
Her pot
So watched
Began
The boil
Regarless
Fire
Simmered below
Gently licking
Burning
Heat
Rising smolder
Absorbed
It was all it could do
Bubbles forming
Longing
For release
The ones that could not be bound
Began
The rise
The leap
To the freedom of the top
Surface so calm
Now disturbed
As it began
The dance
Responding to the heat
It felt
It loved
It so longed
For
In the gentle fury building
More bubbles rose
Escaping
To join the water
In its dance
Becoming ever more furious
As it lost itself
To the burning
Smolder
Her pot
So watched
Began
The boil
Regarless
Fire
Simmered below
Gently licking
Burning
Heat
Rising smolder
Absorbed
It was all it could do
Bubbles forming
Longing
For release
The ones that could not be bound
Began
The rise
The leap
To the freedom of the top
Surface so calm
Now disturbed
As it began
The dance
Responding to the heat
It felt
It loved
It so longed
For
In the gentle fury building
More bubbles rose
Escaping
To join the water
In its dance
Becoming ever more furious
As it lost itself
To the burning
Smolder
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Revolution of the real
oldplay Vs Ac/Dc Vs 2 Unlimited - Thunderstruck Is A No Limits Waterfall (Djs From Mars Bootleg)
The world owns a sword
Named dreamcrusher
And if you wait
If you are willing to listen
You might just believe
Until
You hear the melody
Emerging from the one
Pressing against
A nail sticking out
Only to be struck all the more
Yet
He takes it
Continues to belt his melody
Against the deafness of the world
Sedated
Believing
Why
Bother to dream
Dreams are for fools
But he
Was Texas
All is possible
All
Hit me and I will stand
My brothers will join
And we will strike back
Liberate
Break the chains
Free the dream
Fulfilled
It will happen
It will
You and I
Together
We make the world
Our World
Defiant in the face of those who have forgotten
The precious of the touch
The gaze
The wanting
Desire
Buring
In the face of gratification
So instant
Sedating
Fools who know the price of everything
Yet the value of nothing
Have never seen her eyes
Look at me
Or mine look at hers
From the stare
Novels could be written
From only a glance
Such is the power
Of the primal
Most so desperately try to hide
Cover with the gauze of civiliztion
I have no time for them
They have no soul
But you
Join me
In the revolution
Of the real
The world owns a sword
Named dreamcrusher
And if you wait
If you are willing to listen
You might just believe
Until
You hear the melody
Emerging from the one
Pressing against
A nail sticking out
Only to be struck all the more
Yet
He takes it
Continues to belt his melody
Against the deafness of the world
Sedated
Believing
Why
Bother to dream
Dreams are for fools
But he
Was Texas
All is possible
All
Hit me and I will stand
My brothers will join
And we will strike back
Liberate
Break the chains
Free the dream
Fulfilled
It will happen
It will
You and I
Together
We make the world
Our World
Defiant in the face of those who have forgotten
The precious of the touch
The gaze
The wanting
Desire
Buring
In the face of gratification
So instant
Sedating
Fools who know the price of everything
Yet the value of nothing
Have never seen her eyes
Look at me
Or mine look at hers
From the stare
Novels could be written
From only a glance
Such is the power
Of the primal
Most so desperately try to hide
Cover with the gauze of civiliztion
I have no time for them
They have no soul
But you
Join me
In the revolution
Of the real
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
The boundary
Jennifer Lopez Feat. Pitbull Vs Britney Spears Vs Rihanna - Against The Floor (Robin Skouteris Mix)
An artist, gifted, so precious, in love with the line. Each stretch, thickness, width. High contrast of the India ink to the white paper below. If only she could control her trace. Maddening chase for perfection... from her art at least.
Boundary line that her animal could not cross. Yet however she tried, madness gnawing in her darkest recesses longed desperately to erupt.
Trembling, she would fight. None could see behind her mask, til she remembered the one. His touch, drawing the pain, replacing only with pleasure in a glorious transformation. Little did she know, but all she had to do was look at him, with eyes of trust, openness, and he would die, only to arise more strong.
So it was.
So it goes.
An advance passes, as she felt his forward press. The trace of his finger drawing along her hair. The heat of his breath along her ear... her neck. Her eyes closed... as her hips advanced towards his. Each colliding into each. Drunk with desire. Worlds had collapsed into only the two.
Wanting.
Drawing.
Press of heated lips, burning.
Drawing all oxygen from the other. Replacing with the breath of love. Of passion. Of the eternal.
Til...
Her eyes half hidden, returned. To burn his mind.
While...
His arms emerged from the shadows...
Of her darkness enveloping. To embrace, to caress, to breathe life, over...
and over.
His light...
Though so far distant...
Simply burned to bright.
But don't hold it against him.
An artist, gifted, so precious, in love with the line. Each stretch, thickness, width. High contrast of the India ink to the white paper below. If only she could control her trace. Maddening chase for perfection... from her art at least.
Boundary line that her animal could not cross. Yet however she tried, madness gnawing in her darkest recesses longed desperately to erupt.
Trembling, she would fight. None could see behind her mask, til she remembered the one. His touch, drawing the pain, replacing only with pleasure in a glorious transformation. Little did she know, but all she had to do was look at him, with eyes of trust, openness, and he would die, only to arise more strong.
So it was.
So it goes.
An advance passes, as she felt his forward press. The trace of his finger drawing along her hair. The heat of his breath along her ear... her neck. Her eyes closed... as her hips advanced towards his. Each colliding into each. Drunk with desire. Worlds had collapsed into only the two.
Wanting.
Drawing.
Press of heated lips, burning.
Drawing all oxygen from the other. Replacing with the breath of love. Of passion. Of the eternal.
Til...
Her eyes half hidden, returned. To burn his mind.
While...
His arms emerged from the shadows...
Of her darkness enveloping. To embrace, to caress, to breathe life, over...
and over.
His light...
Though so far distant...
Simply burned to bright.
But don't hold it against him.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Burn Bright!
Coldplay - A Sky Full Of Stars
She had just gotten off of work. Maybe walked to a bus, maybe a tram. That is not important. The important thing is that she knew that one walked behind... in such admiration. The power, the shape, the form of her legs. Each step bold. Each step confident as she walked forward, carrying him in her heart. Her hair danced with each step, each bounce.
Her heart was happy.
For once...
Her heart was happy.
Her confidence, so bodied, knowing she was loved. She was found precious. For nothing more, that what she was.
What she was.
So much. So much more, than she would ever know. But for him, it was enough, that she smiled.... glorious., on her walk. She wouldn't know, he supposed she couldn't know, how precious she was. How bold, How beautiful,
Spread your light.
Spread your love.
Burn you candle so brilliant.
Against the world...
so dark.
Burn bright, my beauty, burn bright!
She had just gotten off of work. Maybe walked to a bus, maybe a tram. That is not important. The important thing is that she knew that one walked behind... in such admiration. The power, the shape, the form of her legs. Each step bold. Each step confident as she walked forward, carrying him in her heart. Her hair danced with each step, each bounce.
Her heart was happy.
For once...
Her heart was happy.
Her confidence, so bodied, knowing she was loved. She was found precious. For nothing more, that what she was.
What she was.
So much. So much more, than she would ever know. But for him, it was enough, that she smiled.... glorious., on her walk. She wouldn't know, he supposed she couldn't know, how precious she was. How bold, How beautiful,
Spread your light.
Spread your love.
Burn you candle so brilliant.
Against the world...
so dark.
Burn bright, my beauty, burn bright!
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Belliisima
Madonna-She's Not Me (Offer Nissim mix)
The smoke filtered across the floor. Caught in tiny pirouettes moving lights created a world of halves. Half light, half shadow. The glory of...
the hidden...
the revealed.
That is when he saw her. Dress so tight, Shaping almost every curve, so supple: firm, vexing, beckoning. Her crown composed of hair short shone. Her face smiled, her body swayed. "Come to me" it invited. "If you only dare," her shift, so soft, so supple warned.
Bellisima
He advanced. The dance, so soft... so simple, had begun.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She had to feign, to pretend, that she did not want, the focus of her desire.
Describe the heat, so burning, so soft, that rose while lips laden, burning with desire, longed to press. To somehow quench her fire perpetual. Just for a moment, to be lost, in consuming extacy To die, so one could live. Fully. Lips longing to feel the heat of his contact. Her hips soft sway. Movement towards enticing followed by a supple retreat. Chase me. Love me. Devour...
me. For I will devour you.
He joined. Advance soft slight. The grace across her hip... a simple move that could so easily be excused in the confusion of the dance. The fury of a furious movement. He knew it was a grace relished... and so did she. She closed her eyes to move towards her desire. He advanced. The slight game of seduction. Separated by the tiniest of spaces. A fraction unbearable. In that space, was the grace, where energy erupted from her, to mix, to dance, to become one with the energy that was erupting from him.
Bellisima.
His hands moved. Longing to map the undiscovered county of her body To memorize every hill, every valley, of her glory. Meanwhile she, pressed close to him. She wanted to draw from him. To justify, to release, to be consumed, by the energy she had created in her longing for him. Her points rose for him. Desire dripped from lips so ruby red. So ripe. Waiting, desperate for the touch of his desire.
The dance pulled closer. She felt his reception to her advance. His welcome. His longing desperate to consume her beauty.
Bellisima.
The drawing close. The pulling near, provided by every beat. Of the heart? Of the music? Did it matter?
He pulled her close. Her fire burned so bright. His lips burning touched hers, so inflamed. They were consumed by the inferno. Erano stati consumati. Ognuno parlava a ciascuno, in una ligua inespressa.
Bellisima
The smoke filtered across the floor. Caught in tiny pirouettes moving lights created a world of halves. Half light, half shadow. The glory of...
the hidden...
the revealed.
That is when he saw her. Dress so tight, Shaping almost every curve, so supple: firm, vexing, beckoning. Her crown composed of hair short shone. Her face smiled, her body swayed. "Come to me" it invited. "If you only dare," her shift, so soft, so supple warned.
Bellisima
He advanced. The dance, so soft... so simple, had begun.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She had to feign, to pretend, that she did not want, the focus of her desire.
Describe the heat, so burning, so soft, that rose while lips laden, burning with desire, longed to press. To somehow quench her fire perpetual. Just for a moment, to be lost, in consuming extacy To die, so one could live. Fully. Lips longing to feel the heat of his contact. Her hips soft sway. Movement towards enticing followed by a supple retreat. Chase me. Love me. Devour...
me. For I will devour you.
He joined. Advance soft slight. The grace across her hip... a simple move that could so easily be excused in the confusion of the dance. The fury of a furious movement. He knew it was a grace relished... and so did she. She closed her eyes to move towards her desire. He advanced. The slight game of seduction. Separated by the tiniest of spaces. A fraction unbearable. In that space, was the grace, where energy erupted from her, to mix, to dance, to become one with the energy that was erupting from him.
Bellisima.
His hands moved. Longing to map the undiscovered county of her body To memorize every hill, every valley, of her glory. Meanwhile she, pressed close to him. She wanted to draw from him. To justify, to release, to be consumed, by the energy she had created in her longing for him. Her points rose for him. Desire dripped from lips so ruby red. So ripe. Waiting, desperate for the touch of his desire.
The dance pulled closer. She felt his reception to her advance. His welcome. His longing desperate to consume her beauty.
Bellisima.
The drawing close. The pulling near, provided by every beat. Of the heart? Of the music? Did it matter?
He pulled her close. Her fire burned so bright. His lips burning touched hers, so inflamed. They were consumed by the inferno. Erano stati consumati. Ognuno parlava a ciascuno, in una ligua inespressa.
Bellisima
The madness of an idea
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sycrn50yDXI
Madness, it seemed.
Madness it was.
But there was no other way.
Shots had been fired. Previous petitions fell on deaf ears. Soldiers shadows loomed across cobblestone streets. Pointed bayonets enforced theft from a distant tyrant so far away.
"We hold these truths to be self -evident..."
The 56 delegates had mixed reactions. To little more than a simple document. A piece of paper that if one signed could certainly be a death warrant.
What were they doing? England was the worlds largest imperial power. They had veteran professional soldiers, they had the worlds largest navy, they had the resources to crush this tiny rebellion. Only a third of the population of the North American mainland colonies supported this insurrection anyway.
The colonials had no money. They had no foundries or factories for the manufacture of weapons. Any army they could muster would mainly consist of poor farmers, twenty to forty years old, sacrificing all for the sake of what? Of what?
An idea.
An idea whose time had come.
We had the ability to rule ourselves.
A notion that some might call...
Madness.
Maybe, but the truth was that this document spoke of ideas that burned and actions that had begun as hushed whispers as early as 1763 to defiant yells and shots fired by 1775.
President of the Congress, John Hancock rose. His defiant hand traced a signature so flamboyant in its exaggerated size so that the King of England could read it without his glasses. Good story, but the real truth was that he saw the trembling hands of some of the delegates. He knew he had to show bravado. Delegates for signing were carefully chosen. Full supporters would be first, leading to the more lukewarm, and finishing with the frightened. Men like Thomas Willing and Charles Humpreys of Pennsylvania voted against it. New York and delegate John Dickinson abstained from their vote. Regardless of this, the necessary votes gave birth to a new nation.
Based on nothing...
but an idea.
Madness.
We had to endure the pains of childbirth. Years of protracted war ensued. Patriots carried the fight against British soldiers but fellow colonials as well. Those who thought the idea of the revolution madness.
The price for signing? For some it cost everything. Iron manufacturer George Taylor had all of his property confiscated by the British. He died impoverished in 1781. William Floyd lost all of his property as well. John Heart of New Jersey had his mills, crops and livestock slaughtered by British troops forcing him to go on the run. Sleeping in caves and dog kennels, he died in 1778. Lyman Hall who had moved to Georgia and operated a rice plantation lost all, but at least he was not like fellow signers Arthur Muddleton and Edward Rutledge. They were captured by the British in 1780 and and placed in the hell of a British prison ship in Florida. Though eventually released, they found that much of their property that had not been destroyed had been confiscated. Richard Stockton of New Jersey in the process of making sure his family was safely evacuated first, was captured by the British and placed in irons. His estate was ransacked, livestock slaughtered, library burned, and then his quarters became the headquarters for British General Cornwallis. Though paroled in 1777, his health had been broken by his imprisonment. He died in 1781.
All was given for a nothing...
that was everything.
An idea.
Beautiful...
Glorious...
Madness.
Happy Birthday to the idea whose time has come! Happy Birthday America!
Madness, it seemed.
Madness it was.
But there was no other way.
Shots had been fired. Previous petitions fell on deaf ears. Soldiers shadows loomed across cobblestone streets. Pointed bayonets enforced theft from a distant tyrant so far away.
"We hold these truths to be self -evident..."
The 56 delegates had mixed reactions. To little more than a simple document. A piece of paper that if one signed could certainly be a death warrant.
What were they doing? England was the worlds largest imperial power. They had veteran professional soldiers, they had the worlds largest navy, they had the resources to crush this tiny rebellion. Only a third of the population of the North American mainland colonies supported this insurrection anyway.
The colonials had no money. They had no foundries or factories for the manufacture of weapons. Any army they could muster would mainly consist of poor farmers, twenty to forty years old, sacrificing all for the sake of what? Of what?
An idea.
An idea whose time had come.
We had the ability to rule ourselves.
A notion that some might call...
Madness.
Maybe, but the truth was that this document spoke of ideas that burned and actions that had begun as hushed whispers as early as 1763 to defiant yells and shots fired by 1775.
President of the Congress, John Hancock rose. His defiant hand traced a signature so flamboyant in its exaggerated size so that the King of England could read it without his glasses. Good story, but the real truth was that he saw the trembling hands of some of the delegates. He knew he had to show bravado. Delegates for signing were carefully chosen. Full supporters would be first, leading to the more lukewarm, and finishing with the frightened. Men like Thomas Willing and Charles Humpreys of Pennsylvania voted against it. New York and delegate John Dickinson abstained from their vote. Regardless of this, the necessary votes gave birth to a new nation.
Based on nothing...
but an idea.
Madness.
We had to endure the pains of childbirth. Years of protracted war ensued. Patriots carried the fight against British soldiers but fellow colonials as well. Those who thought the idea of the revolution madness.
The price for signing? For some it cost everything. Iron manufacturer George Taylor had all of his property confiscated by the British. He died impoverished in 1781. William Floyd lost all of his property as well. John Heart of New Jersey had his mills, crops and livestock slaughtered by British troops forcing him to go on the run. Sleeping in caves and dog kennels, he died in 1778. Lyman Hall who had moved to Georgia and operated a rice plantation lost all, but at least he was not like fellow signers Arthur Muddleton and Edward Rutledge. They were captured by the British in 1780 and and placed in the hell of a British prison ship in Florida. Though eventually released, they found that much of their property that had not been destroyed had been confiscated. Richard Stockton of New Jersey in the process of making sure his family was safely evacuated first, was captured by the British and placed in irons. His estate was ransacked, livestock slaughtered, library burned, and then his quarters became the headquarters for British General Cornwallis. Though paroled in 1777, his health had been broken by his imprisonment. He died in 1781.
All was given for a nothing...
that was everything.
An idea.
Beautiful...
Glorious...
Madness.
Happy Birthday to the idea whose time has come! Happy Birthday America!
Monday, July 2, 2018
Let the water come
Wasted On The Way - Crosby, Stills And Nash
My one
Don't you know
Time
Wasted
Before
The beautiful harmoniousness
So much time to make up
Did she know her eyes
Were Beautiful
The soft tilt of her head
Disbelieving
Yet holding
Just a moment
In her love for me
And my smile
So Cheshire
Crying
Welcoming her
To partake
In the place of fun
Perhaps
Love wasted
The most precious
Wasted
In our youth
Believing
It would last
Forever
He thought
She would never doubt
The beauty
Of her hair
Her crown
Never sell
That which was so Precious
So cheap
Strings flurry
As he looked to see
Did she
Sell
So cheap
That which was so precious
So much water moving underneath the bridge
Love wasted along the way
Let the water come
Let the water come
and carry us away.
My one
Don't you know
Time
Wasted
Before
The beautiful harmoniousness
So much time to make up
Did she know her eyes
Were Beautiful
The soft tilt of her head
Disbelieving
Yet holding
Just a moment
In her love for me
And my smile
So Cheshire
Crying
Welcoming her
To partake
In the place of fun
Perhaps
Love wasted
The most precious
Wasted
In our youth
Believing
It would last
Forever
He thought
She would never doubt
The beauty
Of her hair
Her crown
Never sell
That which was so Precious
So cheap
Strings flurry
As he looked to see
Did she
Sell
So cheap
That which was so precious
So much water moving underneath the bridge
Love wasted along the way
Let the water come
Let the water come
and carry us away.
Diamond
Rihanna vs. Metallica - Diamonds Vs The Unforgiven (Djs From Mars Bootleg Remix)
It was all he ever asked really.
Was for her to shine... so bright... like the diamond she is. She will forever be. It's pressure you know. That creates the diamond. Hidden. Away from sight. Deep in the earth. Under pressure tremendous. At times so great it would seem to destroy. Iit not only survives... but emerges all the glorious. Surrounded in beauty. Sheathed in grace. None will know. Yet...
In her smile...
The shine in her eye...
The laughing twist of her hair....
She will not reveal.
We live in a world, where madness is genius. Imperfection beauty, and the willingness to be absolutely outlandish for acceptance is commonplace.
How did she react? The hesitating, complicated end of the conversation, disguised the difficulty she felt at being accepted for who she was. Really was. Shine bright he would remind...
But her laughter broke.
The turn of her head. Hair cascading. Waiting. Longing for the touch, the trace along her neck. So beautiful. Longing. For the touch. To enter the boundary, the space between her head, and her heart. Do you dare? Lips burn. Waiting for the contact. So far. So near. The shortest distance between two is maddening. Minute pass between her supple rise so beautiful, waiting, longing for the caress of his hands, burning, longing, only moments away. But so are moments.
Blood flowed. Life cried. Pouring, passing, waiting....
wanting...
for release. For hands... for lips... burning press. After a monets hesitation, the drawing in, her pouring out. Longing to be lost. In the few moments they had, before all was lost to passion.
And in the other they were blissfully consumed. All.
Shine bright...
Diamond.
It was all he ever asked really.
Was for her to shine... so bright... like the diamond she is. She will forever be. It's pressure you know. That creates the diamond. Hidden. Away from sight. Deep in the earth. Under pressure tremendous. At times so great it would seem to destroy. Iit not only survives... but emerges all the glorious. Surrounded in beauty. Sheathed in grace. None will know. Yet...
In her smile...
The shine in her eye...
The laughing twist of her hair....
She will not reveal.
We live in a world, where madness is genius. Imperfection beauty, and the willingness to be absolutely outlandish for acceptance is commonplace.
How did she react? The hesitating, complicated end of the conversation, disguised the difficulty she felt at being accepted for who she was. Really was. Shine bright he would remind...
But her laughter broke.
The turn of her head. Hair cascading. Waiting. Longing for the touch, the trace along her neck. So beautiful. Longing. For the touch. To enter the boundary, the space between her head, and her heart. Do you dare? Lips burn. Waiting for the contact. So far. So near. The shortest distance between two is maddening. Minute pass between her supple rise so beautiful, waiting, longing for the caress of his hands, burning, longing, only moments away. But so are moments.
Blood flowed. Life cried. Pouring, passing, waiting....
wanting...
for release. For hands... for lips... burning press. After a monets hesitation, the drawing in, her pouring out. Longing to be lost. In the few moments they had, before all was lost to passion.
And in the other they were blissfully consumed. All.
Shine bright...
Diamond.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
1::17 or 6:42 I will touch the tender wall
Peter Gabriel: In your eyes
Darkness. So pervasive. It could enter the mind. Make one think... make one believe that which was so untrue. A travesty.A colum built of nothing. Nothing more that the lies, one silently whispered to oneself, or the shame, which, in reality, is little more than the lies someone else told you about yourself.
That you believed.
If only for a moment... however passing.
He had been in the darkness. So engulfing. So deafening. You shout. It shouts back. In the moment where he pressed into the darkness, and the darkness pressed back, he had had enough. It would not win. It would not deprive him. So he thought. He remembered the light. The shining sphere she held within her eyes. That glimmer might be enough He held it aloft. He went in search.
With each he found however, his light only grew brighter. Piercing back the engulfing darkness. They crawled. Ramshackle joints that had almost forgotten movement. That had wondered why they should. Yet he moved. He moved on. He searched for her. The knooks, the crannies. He would find her.
Her light as too precious.
Too.
Would she ever know?
Till he found the beauty. So desperate. She tried to hide. Almost. As if. She should hide. That which made her so much... so much more. She was not born to fit in. She was born to stand out.
Did she not know?
Did she not see?
In the light he had brought fir her? The illumination of beauty devastating. Her beauty tight. Forming... ever so... the tightness, the turn, the supple, pleasing... decimating... yet to pull close... so worth the price... to die...
...In the midst of living.
So she was.
Darkness. So pervasive. It could enter the mind. Make one think... make one believe that which was so untrue. A travesty.A colum built of nothing. Nothing more that the lies, one silently whispered to oneself, or the shame, which, in reality, is little more than the lies someone else told you about yourself.
That you believed.
If only for a moment... however passing.
He had been in the darkness. So engulfing. So deafening. You shout. It shouts back. In the moment where he pressed into the darkness, and the darkness pressed back, he had had enough. It would not win. It would not deprive him. So he thought. He remembered the light. The shining sphere she held within her eyes. That glimmer might be enough He held it aloft. He went in search.
With each he found however, his light only grew brighter. Piercing back the engulfing darkness. They crawled. Ramshackle joints that had almost forgotten movement. That had wondered why they should. Yet he moved. He moved on. He searched for her. The knooks, the crannies. He would find her.
Her light as too precious.
Too.
Would she ever know?
Till he found the beauty. So desperate. She tried to hide. Almost. As if. She should hide. That which made her so much... so much more. She was not born to fit in. She was born to stand out.
Did she not know?
Did she not see?
In the light he had brought fir her? The illumination of beauty devastating. Her beauty tight. Forming... ever so... the tightness, the turn, the supple, pleasing... decimating... yet to pull close... so worth the price... to die...
...In the midst of living.
So she was.
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