Pomp

So sorcery is my religion and drugs are my sacrement along with blink and her eyes are delicious glance of mystery, riding through space on the serpentine diamond back. Its time for the lightening whip lashing agate drops of rain but the air is to outlaw dry in Robbers Roost where Artist hides. Its time for me to reach again and set the dream chatcher to the unresolved medicine wheel, walking around her naked pleasure power sun. I love it when she plugs it in me, I love it when ecstasy has built a shrine around me, I love it this early morning romp with the secret juices that enhance our mind. The only difficulty is getting past a wasted mirage of ego and I constantly pace like this Fourth of July Space Cat. She is my black canine and deal with nature, for the naturals on the bottom of a prehistoric sea horse red rock, vanquished reef for the extinct fish and reptiles, listen, the rocks are ancient currents, you can see it! The forgetful man living in a sham that is preset for the space on Polaris that

spirals the Big Dipper around him and his bare foot walk around the wheel with soft sand, 'I am a fool' to high mainentance machines designed to fit in and make a rude dance.