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October 18, 2013

Sex - a haiku

In the train you sat
Your skin bristling under cloth
My nethers screamed out.

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Methodically Mad: I belong nowhere, not to anyone. Each time I set my foot on wet soil, I smell the rain, the whiff of fresh grass. I smell freedom like I never have. I walk ahead yet rise above. A spiralling journey up sketched on the map of human heart.

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