Give me odorous at sunrise
a garden of beautiful flowers
where I can walk undisturbed.
— Walt Whitman —
you promised you wouldn’t…
… but you did.
the light comes…
My story isn’t sweet and harmonious, like invented stories.
It tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream,
like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.— Hermann Hesse —
remember why you started…
i pray you, tell…
If I said, “Yes. Oh, God, please. Yes…”
and spread my velvety thighs before you, what might happen?
Where might you start?
When might we end?
Please.
hooked…
