by Maria Bertalan

Created on: September 15, 2009

The high walls are radiate ice cold.
In Southern California it is a pleasure and nice ...
So can I fight every day with the golden sand,
what the perpetual ocean wind put down.
Deposited on the shiny floor's tile impact
the air is similar to an old winery's atmosphere.
In the past... I didn't drink wine ... in this climate
rather cools the heated blood vessels ...
Nippon , embroidered home linens, decorations ..

What my subconscious self is trying to cheat.
Nothing make me happy, just the past's memory ...the smell of wild sex,
What is there in the walls, along with the smoke of my incense.
I am smiling, as this sweat memory flash into my mind,
brought into my body, as you carry me with hungry desire to the bed.
I remember all of the past, we played...Right now I hiding the Rummy.
Oh, if those box could tell you, how satisfied, happy I was here ...
I love this house! Each room and the garden, in every moment
Even if you don't hug me ,you don't love me any more, you're not in my present.

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