i dwindle to primitive instinctive jests and with a loosened grip on reality more than the normal amounts of seratonin bring sexuality to a heightened nature as my relaxed temple and delicate hands feel more than anyone knows. i have grown accustomed to afternoon delight and silenced mornings, realizing that due to the occurence of the same routine every waking day conversation and gossip on the events of that day are minimal. your legs shine softly in the dimmed yellow light, a pedestal of danger, youth, and twirling graceful splendor. eyes scanning i make my way back up and back down, back up and back down, hoping for the reflective twinkle of my own in your eye, knowing that you are looking inside of me, through this shell carved out of hundreds of thousands of years of genetics, evolution, and almost two dozen years of aquired wisdom. your smooth arms cascade to your fingers and finally to your fingertips, swaying and graciously beckoning me to join you. i am perplexed, imaginative, and willing, but remain rooted knowing that for you to love me you must make the first move, already conscious that i am falling hard, head over heels, deeply, unmoving, insperably in love with you, my designated angel. the ryhthm of your body, and the adoration of my mind along with increased sensitivity change the tapping of your feet to an incredible song, a beautiful fighting symphony that has yet to be written.
You definitely tried to put all those words that you know to good use, but ultimately the sentiment comes off as typically post-adolescent-- ie, it feels like you're lusting after some girls' body and you seem to think it's the same thing as being in love, and furthermore you're trying to impress her with your vocabulary, as if that's really suave or something. Anyway, you can probably write very well, but in the future I wouldn't write about being in love because it's been done over and over, it's boring, and it apparently leads to really cold, cliched descriptions of women's bodies.
I dwindle to primitive instinctive jests and with a loosened grip on reality triple the normal amounts of seratonin bring sexuality to a heightened nature. my relaxed temple and delicate hands feel more than anyone knows. Your legs shine softly in the dimmed yellow light, a pedestal of danger, youth, and twirling graceful splendor. Eyes scanning, I make my way back up and back down. Back up and back down. Searching for the twinkle of my own in your eye, while knowing that you are looking inside of me. Seeing right through this shell carved out of hundreds of thousands of years of genetics, evolution, and almost three dozen years of aquired wisdom. I have grown accustomed to your afternoon delight and silenced mornings, realizing that due to the occurence of the same routine every waking day conversation and gossip on the events of that day are minimal. Your smooth arms cascade to your fingers and finally to your fingertips, swaying and graciously beckoning me to join you. I am perplexed, imaginative, and willing, but remain rooted knowing that my escape later possibly relies heavily on you making the first move. The ryhthm of your body, and the adoration of my mind along with increased sensitivity change the tapping of your feet to an incredible song, a beautiful fighting symphony that has yet to be written.
I see something on its own, with no name, or even a home. Its something bright, with feeling, a feeling so right. Just a drop and i know its worth, i can do anything, and i know its a curse. Theres something i imagine, sitting alone, with no table. It could be free, the fastest horse without a trail, no stable. The tallest ship on waves thats never seen shore, the most honest thought, that thinks no more. No, im on my own. Made in tennesse
