in the still dark of the qua night...

in the still dark of the qua night my house as metaphor for imagination decayed in the history of my being I watched the monsters down below hop on the death express to make their cancer dough so many ways I have perceived that view sometimes on top sometimes below but at this moment it fades away as I sink into her smile and what it actually means to make love to her vulnerable but strong strong but vulnerable why has she not called or text? my conflicting emotions of caring and not caring I melt into the picture and think of what it means to lie naked to her and how I see her the soft shaped brown eyes with the blonde hair dangling upon her shouulder in the still dark of the qua night these are my thoughts...