The pretty phat little grooves we stomped, clapped, and called out of us had their own ears to listen to us as the fire held its own heart to watch us beat. Melodies flaunted and fluttered, dreams of lovely scarce worlds, dreams of better and worse burned away forever as our binary frictions rustled the leaves and our one eternal mind gave way to northern flashes of light that emerged high above us. I wooed her around with my hand on the back of her head, stared deep into her, beyond eyes, laid her down in our majestic lullaby kitchen, kissed her fully with every life I had ever lived, and beheld the blessings of awakening. I believed in her more than I ever believed in anything. I do not know where exactly we went while making love but it was definitely somewhere beyond theories of time and space, far beyond some skeptical dude in a living room saying molecularly speaking that is impossible. It was pure love where everything was possible and impossible at the same time with no possibility to ever not happen. I fucked her God as she turned early morning orange in the dark evening sky, our body blankets wrapped warm in each other’s beings together inside of us. The fire gazed through her brown eyes tender. We drank each other’s lips naked in a midnight campfire picnic fury of beauty and romance. The sonnet that was the night revealed our mind’s passionate depth in each bead of sweat differently satisfying our deaths sure to come. Our minds were motionless with a million senses circling through our love rushing, through our blushing faces kissing majestically young ancient in love blooming fragility. We made perfect, precious love while volcanoes ruptured hot magma across the Pacific Rings of Fire, while blue moons shot through intergalactic space....
excerpt from "The Upper Middle Class Suburban White Boy Enlightened Guru Blues" a novel written by Justin Blackburn
to read contact Justin at firstname.lastname@example.org
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