Love its time: take me, tame me, brand me, all - down to the trail, out to where
the thin lines cut quick & meander past tall roots - rusty monoliths grow
there for another time, oh this other trial; feet & penile don't fail me now!
For we followed the white dog out onto the same pathway you've rumbled
on a hundred thousand times; yes, THE tall brambles that power on, hard
'lectric pumps that thrum through the same veins as yours or mine, given us purpose
down past the green door...out to where the old loony bin stands tall (the
hard brick of fine fine arches, where debutantes can now wander free) - my oh
my how the mind flutters naturally to hard stones n sterner hearts! It'
