chinowski

that look.

in the eyes when it penetrates your bones.

when you KNOW.

and you are at a crossroads of do or do not.

to pull close or walk away.

i miss that great adventure.

the nervousness, and the moment where you have the choice that passes very fast.

i miss the prelude to the touching of bodies, lips, and souls.

when guards are dropped and there is free exploring by my spanyard the tongue, my pilgrims the hands, and the viking best left unmentioned.

one day i will find new ferile land.

i am sure of it.

but for now i roam the empty sea drinking the blood of gulls for water and eating what the sea gives me.

where eyes like lighthouses draw me closer

and i am forced to deciede to dock or not.