Give your weakness
to one who helps.

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she’s there.

God created the child, that is your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.

Cry out! Don’t be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament! And let the milk
of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.

Be patient.
Respond to every call
that excites your spirit.

Ignore those that make you fearful
and sad, that degrade you
back toward disease and death.

for the sake of "healthy choises" i ended up trading love for for sex, sex for chocolate, chocolate for saccharine.

i still have some "sweet & low" left. does anybody want to trade me some love?

no, you can't think. you can't stop. you cant consider, compare, even contemplate what the result may be. Theresa twists slowly , her body curving, she won't stand still, and the pencil breathlessly chases her form, since every fleeting moment is too beautiful to miss - the light  gliding off her ribs, the soft curve of her breasts, her gentle, elegant face so deeply still and sombre. you don't want to miss this, you don't want the moment to slip away. it does.
all i have left is the black, shaking graphite line the pencil tip trailed behind as it rushed to it's inevitable failure. it's more a memento of a lost moment than the correct description of it.