Wired to My Intellect by Lacy D PhillipsI feel warm when Im with you. Not passion, not lust
but comfort
like the embrace of an electric blanket in a wood-warmed house in winter. Yes, electricity is what you inpsire in me, in the modern sense. You make my words work against me, like a metropolis choked by rolling blackouts that abruptly flares to life with the restoration of power, at once necessary and dangerous. She is your outlet, your current of purpose. And I
I cannot know how you measure my worth, the price of my service. If there were a meter I could read bi-weekly to gauge my use to you, it would be wired to my heart and not my intellect. 01/16/2004 Posted on 01/17/2004 Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips
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