A book without point
prose without poignancy...

Light
a teeming myriad of visual stimuli...

Dust motes fell
light catching their diaphanous folds...

The dawn broke gently, on a face so fair
Yet trouble was conceived, as you played wanton...

Listless hearts
Endless roads...

I love the thoughtful way you speak
I love your beautiful personality...

Feeling returned with an aching, endless...
She slowly looked down at her breasts...

Pity my friends, oh come, pity me!
I threw my last throws, just there, on the lee...

Play you upon my curved horn
Dance your fingers through my hair...

Koss.com
koss dot com...

Sweat, on canvas
silk, on screen...

Diaphanous silk
conforms to the ripples of your body...