I Two the Sandbox

Act 1, Scene 2

The rain was bountiful, the sun was bountiful, and Sarah's clentele was bountiful. By now, Sarah had disciplined my with vengeance as much as any one else In my past, so much that I fantasized about her knuckles, and wrists, and made love to the bones in her waist. It felt bittersweet, but to her clientelle. sarah was the dew, when it drizzled, the sun on browning skin, as her whispers promised  to our consent that we could live our lives as her homosexuals. By now the eastern winds, held her back straight, as pride was an issue in it's cause and effect, that maybe attributed by a will to live, and a will to decide one's fate, yes to be her excretion, but also for understanding that there were also other issues, she may have with me as her slave.

"When you stop believing you are right for women, You'll earn your vows." Said Sarah.

   "I am still a little dizzy right now I" I Said, " but I am willing to consecrate to to them."

 With a brief reminder she can help me Mr's Omacha undid her jeans, and fetched me her excretion, that I would consume. This was the hiatus, the rainbow was the movement she excreted.

     "I must now go meet Gregg, I am having sex with him, does that bring up any thoughts in you " Said Mrs. Omacha

I turned towards the door, having eaten of her jeans. Hoping she would not make Gregg feel used or abused, while in my heart that possibility prevailed in my thoughts, like  a cloud of billowy reticience, ascending into the temple of Sara's anus.

Gregg was a man who was never mastricised, or wrapped up in Sarah's hand as a small prey to a bug. Gregg was still pushy, yet immasculate. I would absorb even his sperm with harm, that night, but Sara introduced him to me as something I am not.

"Shalom my sweet dove." said Gregg.

" How are you with women, it is that way with some you know."

"You have the Body of Pallas Athena, and are as fresh as the mountain air.

" I have more tasks to assign my slave, you see to women he was once their thoughts." Said Sarah.

"I  can only offer you my salary." Said Gregg."

" Well for my cleavage that's fine." Said sarah.

Mr's Sarah Omacha once did not shave her armpits when in my presence. like  a glass of exotic succor, I became irrational, alost wishing to contact NASA to see Venus from a telescope, also wishing to end corruption, and counting on the good of boy friends to find it in me not to gamble. Mr's Sarah had armpits that bristled a kind of brunette majic, a kind of ginger Beer, and Coconut Water, that dispelled demons, by reminding me I was beneath her from birth to death under any, and every conceivable circumstances. The Clove scented bristle of armpit hair that Mrs Omacha fed my salivary glands with, and became for me what I understood as conflicts between good and evil. it would be a week, befor my fantasies would become less of  an imperative, and wet about her sweaty armpits, before any real goals could be set again.