Found the Snail, early in the morning, transfixed to
some whirl wind of gaze hardly knowing that the looker
has a hard on.
Touched, and felt the wet of sticky dew flavouring
and itch of pleasure- deifintely sweeter and better
than some idiot womans prejudices of so many assumptions
behind her every touch.
In Intimacy its difficult to be pure and spontaneous,
its also equalleasy to built it along the lines
of the mask - the one of pure artifice.
Its easy to touch lipstick, and feel its turgid sense of colour;
its so difficult to feel the warmth of what is lacking as what