bits and pieces to soak in.

poesa.

pilgrimsoulinme:

A sense of sin, sounding
off the tongue, unhurried,
slow and unctuous, as
the song hissed from dripping
hips.  She was the sun, both
sanguine and unfair, filling
my nose with ambrosial
nonsense and truth, wet
regression set like sweet
hypnosis against the snicker
of my cellphone and the rain. 

(via pilgrimsoulinme-deactivated2012)