Truth-ache

you shiver me up, molded by you.. instilled with sweat.. repetition agony.. fighting against you.. apologies for all the words.. apology for the apology.. the circle I am in.. all the pushing, up in the air.. you breathe me up, molded by you.. give up, give up.. surrender before you.. and the taste smells sweeter.. the touch of wonder.. surrounded..

Raw Poetry (..of Life)

To move among movements and friction yourself into a fleeting shape while others, like you, fleeting shapes friction themselves against you.. the coherence, the synchronicity, the perseverance of a mold of no fixed shape shaping the dance of fleetingness, the one and only thing too elusive to be explained in a rigid term..