No tattoos. Never felt the need. Although I had an idea. Back before tats became cool. Then they meant something. Not just a cool pic picked out of a book. I had something that meant something. On the right and left rear deltoid. A big fist on one delt, a cross on the other. Or maybe a big fist holding a cross. Either way it was mine. My definition of my relationship with Jesus. That was the idea I had for a tat. It would prove something. Show the world. You know I never did get the tat. My relationship is the same, though.

Tired mind Thinking those thoughts Negativity drains The those thoughts that steal the power

Build or destroy Tear it down if you need to. Get that shit out the way. Too much shit in here as it is. Got to open up some space. An open mind is a beautiful thing. Can see the whole picture. Everything laid out. Now build something.

She makes me smile when she thinks I'm not looking. Makes me laugh when she makes that face. She drives me mad when she says "You're too quiet. I hate when you get that way". Do we have to fill the room with noise for you to know I love you. Can't we sit like church mice. Close enough to touch, but only our souls caress. Quietly feeling each other.

Boy shorts Tank top Ponytail, maybe a bun Glasses Saturday night Work at the table Focused feminity Such a force Sexy as hell That ass looks good As you lean across the table I test you Tease your left nipple with my finger Kiss your neck behind your ear "Stop. I gotta do this" Slap that ass "Gotta give me some of that juicy." "Later baby. Let me get this done."