Sleeping With Pop Culture

When did the necessary act of something so authentic to the body become something of a high, a severe case of comfortability, on a whole other realm of things, and I almost get use to not being comfortable each time. The surreal embellishment that any passerby would claim was a lie if overhearing of this experience. A mixed match pair, like odd socks, that seem to slow down in the easiest of ways. Speed it up and we are nothing but a lost cause, but when things are slowed, and then out – out of office, out of the sun, out of energy and things to say, it becomes so easy. People usually craving the exact opposite of actions, they want vibrant and tactiful, they want attentive and conversation for miles and miles of space and time. I’m getting closeness, just like they would want. I’m getting affection and serenity, just like so many are trying for. I am getting muffled words in nice places and I think we need to do this more often. The innocence in the action, I will not deny, is no longer innocent. It use to be, sometime ago, but I guess I am lying, it’s never been innocent for me. The misguided notion that something like this would turn out to be the meancing recall of a nudity playground has got me feeling rather truiumphant of the scene and I encourage you all to give it a go, just try it out. Without all the hassle and payments of this and that, without the promises and without the energy. Lose the energy and simply be, in the calmness of the hour, sleeping stars in a save haven and the haven isn’t save and you really shouldn’t be there but the innocence in the time is perfect and your not actually awake, does it even count? I think it might, or the feeling would be nothing, it would be light like eyeing a penny on the sidewalk and deciding not to pick it up. I’ve decided to pick this up and it’s safe, it’s easy and it’s the easiest things we’ve got considering who we are, and who we are together.