Some people can handle these feelings,use them if possible,dwell on, should they be swung into the mood before dropping this sort of baggage,as something to look back on perhaps with a smile.Others who knows, each has a story to tell.
I myself have never swung from the mood,though i have tried to smut it down to some dark corner of my mind chain it in, rip it up, and possibly shag it from my plasma thought waves,however the seed always grows,rolls around a bad spent penny,the old pennies that is, the sort you could tie around your ball sac,walk with a limp crying esmeralda,whilst looking for the off button on the crying wireless.
The trip down the motorway was fraught,mother nature still tumbled from the sky,the spray gushing from the passing wagons,made me feel as if i was inside the drum of a washing machine,my thoughts much the same,i was after all johnny taxi-man,let off for good behaviour in between the twin journeys making the day.The dark thoughts wandered across the three lanes of traffic each tin mobile caught tripping in the vortex of white lines,i wonder at these white lines how possibly could there be such a thing as motorway pile up,but i forget the human mind as i made out the tail gating in this sea of fast tracked spray,if i had seen a fisherman loom out of the never ending whiteness i would not have been surprised.Nor should i ignore the lane slugs who belong in Harry Potter books to be eaten by spiders.Yes the human mind,but who am i to say;as last nights dreams concentrated on watching the flesh sleeping besides me being fucked by a strange cock,not one of those massive things i dwell in fantasy land with, no a short fat thing,wrinkled to fuck.Gosh life gotta smile.
This is a shot of liverpool that will not be in any tourist flab,there are no perfect Cities in the world all have their tired angry crumbs,an hour or two before this shot the area was a hive of flesh, buying selling posing,gobbing flesh bulged showed in gaudy colours accents deep in whack, punched away the dripping sky,a colourful cocktail of flesh.I bought some muffins from a baker who had hands with short stubby fingers skin like leather drifting in were thoughts of how it would feel around a cock,he uttered some words i turned round and through the pouring rain this young girl pushed a pram,it was not the pram that held the bakers mind but the shorts that almost pushed her pubic hair out in view,i stood stared,until this body was swamped by the flowing flesh in this working class market..as i turned around collected my copper change,he commented that this was one reason he stood in the pouring rain the flesh,for no richman was he going to be,nor i suspect was he a cock holder,bet he would be good though those rough hands pumping away..i sighed took a stroll through some near by streets stretching my legs ready for the long haul journey home.
Urban decay at it's loudest,at it's forlorn how many ghosts could tell a story and for me what a waste in good brick work,this was around the corner form the shuttered market hall,perhaps John Lennon may have one day have wandered past,perhaps luvers sneaked a quick kiss in the darkness,who knows,but should we care...and why have i put these two shots in anyway.the first i found erotic,had i stayed over night i might perhaps have blown over in the dark and wrapped my cock in cold steel before dribbling..the other is the sadness i see in forlorn old buildings once built by craftsmen,once giving hope,a thing of beauty and then there is some beauty in decay nothing lasts forever,but always that doubt the human mind wishes to leave behind just to say i woz here...