I have four pairs of jeans, but only ever wear two. I always try and relax with something smooth and jazzy, but end up playing the same soundtrack over and over to fall asleep. The chemical corp. lied to you all, or most likely just me. I make love to the long necked golden brown woman, and she helps me forget. She lays me down.
I try not to depend on her always for the help, but she comes in so many dresses, it's hard to resist my nightly temptress. All my friends love her, and she loves them too. The song repeats, or it all runs together and I'm not sure if I feel it anymore. With my mind she runs, and maybe I don't feel. It's consumed me, or I it, and it speaks for me, and with me. Another kiss on the lips and I'm closer to Valhalla, but with a little more peace.
I'll miss a week, or the next two from the caress. My mind will wander and wake, create and destroy. My fingers not working alone, but assist all together. Not striking or stroking the right keys. The wrong place for them to work, but all the right reasons to. I miss her during sleepless nights, but know she awaits, cold and pure. Her texture like sun.
Throughout the night, there's no need to fight. I've never had a frown with Ms. golden brown.
