church arches Gothic and ancient
did you ever think we could find God here?
I don’t believe in your God
but in the arch of her back and the way her eyes roll
we are finding something together
lost somewhere between the two of us.
Arch that back so I can stick it all the way in. Arch that back as I pull your hair and spank you bottom. keep that back archd until I pin you to this mattress. Arch that back , for right now just be my actress. until I yell cut and the curtains are dropped this is a show. Arch that shiddd.
He arched his back. It was painful. His back gave a resounding snap! “Ow!” He cried, clutching his back. His back started to arch over and turn into a literal arch for people to walk through.
the arch of my poise, lifted by the churn of my pen;
my hands, labored, by, the one and only
amibition.
That engine inside my heart that pumps oxygen like a millhouse on a farm.
Her toes curled as the feeling of being filled overwhelmed her senses. Fingers clenched the sheets to find purchase as he rocked against her like it was his sole mission. The tight coil in her belly began to unravel, little by little. When she opened her eyes, he was looking down into hers intently. She fell apart, unable to control her body from twisting and bending.
My back has this unnatural curve in it, this arch my husband and I refer to as “the skateboard ramp.” I’ve always thought it was freakishly weird, but Gage’s hand feels so natural there and when our dog conforms his body to fit perfectly up against me in that odd space, for that space of time I feel perfectly made and wholly loved.
from the floor
and returning
to the floor
tasting the excesses of the sky
kissing the infinite possibilities of UP
but slowing
pausing
reaching
not quite kissing
not quite touching
so tantalisingly, temptingly, outrageously close
a pause
a suspended moment of hope
and then the descent
in denial at first
slowly
and then with speed
back
down
My arch nemesis is productivity. It’s so easy to not do something. The attraction of vegetation is the seduction of sitting and staring. I love it. I hate this. I hate pushing my brain to work and write, and create. But I also hate how I feel when I haven’t let the words out in a long time – they stagnate, they fester, they need to come out.
AAGH! Why did you do that to me? I didn’t want to arch my back, but you forced my back.
church arches Gothic and ancient
did you ever think we could find God here?
I don’t believe in your God
but in the arch of her back and the way her eyes roll
we are finding something together
lost somewhere between the two of us.
well its on the bottom of my foot a bridge a french bridge french bread bread sticks pizza olive garden i have no clue boots feet farm oil bottom
A cripple
Leaning over the oceans
Salt blinding his blue eyes
Clouds bending him farther into the puddle of desolate seas
Arch that back so I can stick it all the way in. Arch that back as I pull your hair and spank you bottom. keep that back archd until I pin you to this mattress. Arch that back , for right now just be my actress. until I yell cut and the curtains are dropped this is a show. Arch that shiddd.
He arched his back. It was painful. His back gave a resounding snap! “Ow!” He cried, clutching his back. His back started to arch over and turn into a literal arch for people to walk through.
the arch of my poise, lifted by the churn of my pen;
my hands, labored, by, the one and only
amibition.
That engine inside my heart that pumps oxygen like a millhouse on a farm.
Her toes curled as the feeling of being filled overwhelmed her senses. Fingers clenched the sheets to find purchase as he rocked against her like it was his sole mission. The tight coil in her belly began to unravel, little by little. When she opened her eyes, he was looking down into hers intently. She fell apart, unable to control her body from twisting and bending.
My back has this unnatural curve in it, this arch my husband and I refer to as “the skateboard ramp.” I’ve always thought it was freakishly weird, but Gage’s hand feels so natural there and when our dog conforms his body to fit perfectly up against me in that odd space, for that space of time I feel perfectly made and wholly loved.
from the floor
and returning
to the floor
tasting the excesses of the sky
kissing the infinite possibilities of UP
but slowing
pausing
reaching
not quite kissing
not quite touching
so tantalisingly, temptingly, outrageously close
a pause
a suspended moment of hope
and then the descent
in denial at first
slowly
and then with speed
back
down
My arch nemesis is productivity. It’s so easy to not do something. The attraction of vegetation is the seduction of sitting and staring. I love it. I hate this. I hate pushing my brain to work and write, and create. But I also hate how I feel when I haven’t let the words out in a long time – they stagnate, they fester, they need to come out.
There is giant arch made of rocks right above the water to make a perfect circle.