I dream of standing speaking my words from soul song into your eyes, direct line from mine; channels open beneath me is my heart, throbbing lust into my words. I dream of standing alone in the void uncluttered at ease, a million to one chance of survival embodied, emboldened by you and you joined. What am I doing? here it is again that 'run out' feeling where am I? escaping to the inner countryside where my cottage in the sun waits patiently for me to flee the city's gravity. Its ok I'm fine! my feet firmly planted this time, this song all mine. I rival her but with a twist for rivalry is not really my style at all is there something I've missed? It's more of a sharing a collective bean-bag of thought each thought is a tiny polystyrene bead like quick silver it weight something is highly toxic (to most) and endlessly alluring only the experience need apply for the position 'poet'.