Inhale-- the air is dark and thick
try to swallow, but this stuff sticks...

I can smell you skin I can taste your mouth
I can feel your fingers trace my spine...

I may be a bit unorthodox
But I love you...

My sweet JoDee
Every time you say my name...

When last I wrote you
I claimed to have lost my inspiration...

This poem has no title
For I hold no place in my muse’s...