Blaring , thudding, skidding, rudderless, fatherless, emotionless, fearful, trepidatious, anxious and heart swollen to the bilious size of a throbbing wind gland, staring up at the naked stars, stelliferous flares stream across that deep molten blue, that deep vertiginous vision of a thousand hexagons spilling forth and settling among one another to form the perfect, the neatest, the tidiest, the most visionary crucible nesting among the capacious universe.
Ah yes, the deep, impenetrable visions! Iconoclastic in their cauterizing beauty, they’d sear the bloody paint of the barge at Wilton Terrace you miserable swine! Every sinew in the infinite flab of your gut should be beseeching the feckin’ girl for her hand, sure she was only bleedin’ gorgeous!
Yes but enough about her, it was that night that warm black night with our hands entwined and her palms all sweaty and the wild intense passion shimmering behind her gentle blue eyes, all comely in their silent vulnerability, her warm sex pressed against you, don’t you remember it slowly unfurling and clasping around your little fella and then the burrowing began, the foraging for the sweet spot the sweet scents, the warm and wet and sticky and, and. and..