jujubee

Seriocity
The blank page scorns me like the frostbite sting from a snowstorm bee (b is for blizzard, folks), conscious words flowing down my mind in streams, her face blocking transcriptions transportation, damn the traffic attributable to her dam face, the beautiful accident that frustrates only the letters late for their word-y conventions, syllables caught in rush hour segments on the expression expressway, a highway of harangue, sentences awaiting an ending, period undisclosed, visions indisposed, written in these clothes, thinking back to days of old,
Numbness taps the fingers wriggling out of their glove-nests, tingles borrowed from the spine, ridicule climbing vertebrae two by two, emanating from the pages void of hieroglyphic scribble, mockery nonetheless, yet all the more, intriguing, that is, a seriocity (a serious curiosity) for the ample flow that lies beyond her facial features, mug shots of espresso, her caffeinated smile stimulating my thoughts, attempting to police my words, in trivial pursuit of restraint, neither required nor requested, although suggested, before words get digested, (good thing traffic is congested),
Her eyelids swung open to expose her naked eyes (betcha didnt know that light beams slept in the buff, either) and opened up nasal passages, canals of audible routes, and allowed for some intangibles to pass through the cavities of her sweet-toothed grin, cold days in hell amongst white background awash with the heated discussion transcribed upon the walls, limbo is a tepid place, slithering under a stick of ideas progressing towards heaven, ascending a spiraling staircase of notions and proposals, insipid paper now filling with insight, transcendent graffiti abound,
Plain and simple I love yous, complicated cataclysmic cognitions, and everything that lies within the boundaries of that outside the box, reflections that ricochet around the mind (its all fun and games until someone loses an i), and intimate desires released into the wild (imaginations, that is), sexual conduct conducting an orchestra of orgasmic innuendo symphony erotica, conductor for the lightning bolt clash between the titans of tenacity, veracity, and audacity of grandiose proportions,
Hand traces thigh, sketches her interior melody with exterior harmony, inner monologue speaks with an accent of naughty pleasure, fingers run the maze around her curves, caress craves to become clasp, gentle strokes aching for absorption, thoughts yearn for action, she penetrates my mind with the mighty thrust of passions mighty sword, razor sharp intent, bodies quiver with unparalleled anticipation, a wicked insatiable hunger, lips blissfully scolded, burnt this time by her pages, pages filled with marvel, waterfalls of wonder overflowing down the river of my desire, chapters focused in on a tale of two tongues, harassment of two heartbeasts, a solemn interest in her hands-on bodily production of my fantasia, a seriocity I wont soon release

-Bryant Horowitz

How can you not love a man like this?

xoxo
Juju