excess

I crave a variety of excess that was fostered by expats.

The lounge,

the energetic exchange in vowels

always on the verge of love,

to some degree or definition.

And I think of my travels

and the women found in them.

Beauty, virility

and youth

are all found in the excess. 

Sweat comingling is the safest thing

to mix these days.

there’s nothing wrong with a taste

is there?

To push the bounds

Hasten the moment

Push the envelope

Have a little measured danger

I think back on rooms shared

in far away places

with those who are in other

seemingly

far away places

and turn to ash.

Humans cant re-feel pain.

Memories of lovers are pure in the senses. 

My cloudy brain,

my body electric,

no boundaries;

the scent of a lovers pillow,

how light cuts across a body,
in a dark room

words so simple

that flash back in remembrance

an everyday utterance

pop new meaning

and old lives.

a deluge of pure self indulgence washes over me

and I’m gone. 

There are few things

more blissful than

cool mornings

warm covers

and the thought of you.