Back to the future
Back to the future,
the matured drawing bord...
The indelible sword of the allure that seduces her.
Her edge, it does not end...
instead, it bends into the infinite,
the undefinitive depth of what was and what is,
attractive...
reflective...
primitive...
Her pulse, pressing immovably
against her immutable mind...
She is a goddess, I must confess,
a kind of powerful rhyme,
a dime a dozen a thousand times.
Oh why!
Why does my poetry live and die
at the inception of her word?
The amenable nerd,
the affection of my mental arection.
I am not ashamed, nor do I wish to subdue...
or tame...
the flame burning in my name.
In the name of liberty and luxury
and lust...I must!
For it would surely be, a bona fide crime,
to decline the art just waiting to climb
from your lips, my prolific truth drips and dribbles,
Tantalizing...
Realizing...
Fantasizing...
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