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1. 

   DeathByChocolate

   232 Kudos

   09/13/09

   
   Sending you some Chocolate Loving
   

   11/22/09

   Reply from Annwn333:

   I could speak of love it wells up from within

   
   when I think of you. An easy notion come of constant patterns life weaves.

   
   I could suppose you, there, a touch away an easy eternity with the prick

   
   of your thinking. Entering me finding me before I find myself.

   
   I could bleed for all the days without you before and again later.

   
   You not same or similar. I know and that decides it well.

   
   In difference there comes complete

   
   in native ways. I'm happy to be the loss fate is
   
   the face inclined a different way, the light

   
   at play disguising sustenance and poignant lack

   
   I've seen it before the words stuck

   
   in the throat, the voice silenced by a past

   
   dripped into motion as the body rules the moment

   
   though the urge is strong

   
   for more.
   
   
   
   WHERE ARE U SWEET PEA...HOW THE PORPH....louis

2. 

   mauraid

   224 Kudos

   09/09/09

   LOL Hey you ! Haven't been posting anywhere at the moment Louis . Just had knee surgery, but trying to get back in the swing. Send me a pm. Tell me whassup :)
   Original comment »

   09/30/09

   Reply from Annwn333:

   post somewhere...so i can...enjoy the reparte my sweet hope your better...louis
   
   

   It's as if the point of contact lurks

   to bug the brain, each matter vain.

   If vanity intrudes occludes

   the reason for the reason.

   The human moment comes and goes

   as if its

   as it is.

   A female being lust

   never bides her time

   with anything else. Do you Love me?

   It's hard to say

   in most ways.

   Is the skin

   in closest contact

   with what matters? Within.

   The urge can come

   and go and

   the firmament, the feel, feels,

   changes in episodes

   of understanding. Tact

   and how the act was,

   too happy or

   too gay or simply the most polite shade

   of confused. Did you, do you.

   love her. She is at the very least the receptacle of your haste.

   You'll never find a grace still spent with gods

   an ineluctable retreat,

   as the prism is

   for understanding.

   And you doubt the meaning

   of that. A man's rush to being

   is quick, idiosyncratic; moments questioning the moon

   or assuming the body politic.

   Slick sweet dick in unctuous fate,

   how you grate,

   the skin pursed as if the time you had

   you thought you had,

   was important,

   and it's always something else.

   History, that effervescent loss, that almost sure

   then not

   the thump the grumpy thump

   of what you think and the time

   it makes, as it twists you

   finding

   contact

   being strong

   when

   you

   didn't make a difference anyway.

   And meaning is...

   as if it was

   impossible to understand,

   truth become too complex.

   Being in that

   I like the gland

   the blood

   a pulse being urgent

   and then not. Limp as if the meaning fled.

   It's a cold bed without her.

3. 

   Pheebsys Place

   253 Kudos

   08/17/09

   You have an eye for detail I c
   
   

   08/19/09

   Reply from Annwn333:

   i wonder whats next...after the....but we men no...we're let to our own devices...sad but true...louis

4. 

   MistressPassion

   1527 Kudos

   08/09/09

   

   
   

   08/10/09

   Reply from Annwn333:

   that
   is a sweet pic...for you
   i like it
   
   louis

5. 

   PiggiesR4Me

   20644 Kudos

   06/11/09

   

   
   

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