Memories of Deeper Song 4/13/12

I whisper your name almost in some sort of prayer.strumming your pain, i spit your song the piano player. killing you softly. mood west coasting, hydraulic press.Trembling pulsing tingling writing love poems on your slippery wet goose bumped fevered flesh.sitting under water falls are chasing us.two wheel riding no shuttle bus.i am butter laying melting on you.i have architect this moment.call me Palladio. my mouth the radio surrounds us by the quite storm.i in plural form dread widows walk.the color of the night is pillow talk.deep smelly scars of lie.you slide me with your glad eye. i expect you to put my heart in the bottom of your shoe.Fred Flintstone,my perfect beauty, you  make true our yabbadabbado and i gobble down your puppy chow.im not scared of the fall now.yes, You are a marvel.having bubble and squeak conjunctions You are unique. In all the years that have passed, for me my moon ,there has never been another like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move.you are outta sight.i can gig,swerve,footloose,and juke in your groove.like dy-na-mite.  in whole of you ,your steering from the rear.your life is greatness leaking from the pin of  Shakespeare, your grace is  Michelangelo that attracts this bullheaded buffalo, your vibes are southern, voice Beethoven.i enjoy your thermal spring. i cant shake this stain,my coffee ring.You have the capacity for anything. vice versa you are my mirror staring at we bestows an awards upon .can you blame me for wanting to hold on?