I want to be out of my mind, talk to myself in epitaphs, measure success with hysteric laughs, eat pie and dance in the afternoon rain of my failure to complete, never become neat, or anything close to perfect.
Without any effort at containment, I hurtled over the back-jacks and pounced on top of her. In a soulbeat, we were undressed and writhing madly on the temple floor. The Buddha was aghast, as we attached, desired and clung our way to God.