His gal, this gal, she’d run thru the jungle for ya and ya’lls, babe, my sugarfooted mouse.
Of the woods I have no fear. For there was I raised.
Of the caves, I do not go deep. Of darkness there will be epochs to learn, so I rush not.
Of the mesa do I have resonance, having ere dauntingly danced to dodge the threat of exposure to lightening.
What I know, you know not.
What you know, I know not.
LET no assumption be made, except that Ae submit aem love. Aem written. Tolle lege. Anon, anon; and, on and on. Aem, we are, new, I do contend.
Lovesome intent is my Tao.
Let’s follow Macha’s dictum and See it Another Way.
What you think I know, i dont.
What you think has been made painfully obvious, i see not.
What you must remember, I’m just a doe eyed dummy, man.
Yet I love you still,
despite not knowing your face, name, OR voice.
You are the scepter at the feast, and the feast is mentally prepared for you alone, by myself. Through my longing for real touch and to discard this silicon love in order to know flesh and blood love, with my love. Lovesome intent.
Fawning through the forest. No end game, just the breath of a moment and hope for companionship.
This is patience, not prudence.
Come or say you won’t.
WrittenCasey 