slightly different than normal, the
ocean of desire is playing storm,
murky waters and swirling directions,
eventually rushing to a crashing crush,
slamming the grouped momentum around,
and no boat is allowed to intercede,
might have been like a
port authority of your heart,
letting the mind plead for more time,
even this storm seems peacefull like a sleeping lion,
questions that only apply if empathy exists
under the dankest depths hidden like a mermaids castle,
even the skin wants to peel off and walk away,
select moments seem just like a painting,
tempest almost as if a furious stirring stew,
infused with the
orange and blue lightning curls,
nobody predicts perfecty spiritual weather
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