There are no false prophets under the sea

and you were over here,
you were under me.
When my bed became
our church
as we ached for
salvation.
When words
poured down like rain
so thirsty
we 
drank from them 
so empty
we let them
drown
us. 

What mistakes?

Whatever that is:

I want to come up there
kiss you on you your Mid-West
smart mouth
and have
winter sex with you.
 

Like a worn in t-shirt:

turned out my favorite
color
was you
and I keep wanting to wear
you
over and over.


Like a glove:

I know we fit.
doesn't matter im
so much - well, slightly older-
with sometimes scratchy beard

faded tattoos
mixed with the new
ones we collect
together.
like the bruises
 I give to you .
We have some kind of chemicals
or maybe its your ass
I just want to spank
and tell you
things, like how I fit into you.
and that we are drugs
and summer
and winter snow
and this sounds like bullshit
but its our
bullshit
it's our starry night
when all of sudden
all our nothings
become
something.

One Fathom above Sea level

    Here is what happens-  The flu kicks my ass the last week of the new year. I lacked interest in writing,  jerking off, working out, scrolling and scrolling through your stuff to hopefully see that pic of you that turns me on- so, 
..all the things I normally love so much.
I miss Creeping her.

 But, like a good Sea-monster soldier. Like a vampire. I live again. I changed the names on my blogs out of being bored. Something nautical and that makes more sense to the direction of where I live and swim and breathe. I'm sick of being a fathom above sea-level. Its time to get back in the dirt. Underwater.

I filed my Taxes today- I decent return and all the money is going into Road-trips, adventures and tattoos.  This years philosophy is to stop buying things and start buying experiences. I have several ideas of where I want to go and a few Tattoo artists in each region. Just have to see how the timing of the bookings work in relation to where and when Ill be.