choose to let them notes ring: the study of the common stage.
he starts his day one foot in front of the other.
its the best way to do things. balance and coordination.
he bends behind the knees and the elbows (which sway as he strides)
"baby, check out this new walk." his palms face his hips.
the right arm moves forward in time with the opposite leg.
as assumed, the left arm follows the right leg.
its a confident stroll. no stumbles or noticeable faults.
his composure is nothing special but when studied is ideal beyond belief.
adhesive.
the finest adhesive that keeps everything and keeps it in one piece.
"its up to the skin to hold a person together. and noone or anything else."
his step seems flawless: each step is absorbed first by the heel
each is then is ended by the toes pushing into the next lunge.
of course, each grounding is in one fluent motion.
and now the talented master can multi-task. oh yeah.
the outsider with magical eyes studies primarily the torso,
including the head and neck.
the rocker of the good posture can now walk and talk.
as if there was an introduction or build up,
the chest expands momentarily before the lips part.
his mouth is nothing more than an echoing chamber which molds and bends the vibrating sounds provided by the respected vocal chords.
TIME and LIGHTS. "drop your jaw and really watch me, sweets."
he reaches his destination the walk becomes nothing more than stance.
a specific stance.
the two legs have about two feet between them on the ground.
the right leg stays completely straight and holds less weight.
the left leg is bent slightly at the knee holding most,
the weight is directed to the ball of the left foot.
he raises and lowers his heel into a common tap of the foot.
it follows the external sound which the flying 5 produce well.
"ladies and gentlemen. boys and girls, all eyes on me, now."
3.5 centimeters of plastic. 6 steels. 427 watts. and this boy.
his head sits approximately 2.5 feet above everyone else's hair.
his forearm moves as a clock hand does going from 2 to 6.
mouths close and they see his bare chest. the scarred but bare chest.
nervous over what the flyers make routine.
"shes right fucking there, man. can't you fucking see her?"
"god dammit, relax, yes i see."
"how am i going to fucking do this?"
"youre gonna fucking do this right. she wants you to do it right.
rely on your skin to keep you together. it will not fail you."
we'll skip the five set. the water. the writing. the drive. the tears. the park. the light. the glare. the cigarette. the time.
well now, those of you following along... i, john franciosa, take you to an extremely specific embracing moment. i hope you dont get sick of this study because it is nothing more than that. the inspirations have altered my style so try as best as you can to picture this. however i am leaving out crucial moments.
I picked her up. it was a tag team effort but I wanted to do it alone. i held her behind the knees and across the shoulder blades. her weight was no trouble whatsoever for the work my muscles are capable of. the smiles and anticipation of the upcoming toss are irreplaceable. she was not tossed so much as dropped into the water. her shirt was hugging her body closer than spandex, outlining every feature now that she became wet. absolutely stunning. her wet hands covered her face momentarily and then combed her hair from the front to back revealing her face perfectly. completely taken aback, i stood quiet as a fucking mouse. she just stretched out for me and grabbed on and pulled me close. her head met my right shoulder and her chin was just resting for an indeterminate time. and the front of their bodies seemed to touch at every possible place. both now dripping i smile and just rely on my skin to keep me together. she's relying on hers to do the same but would never think of it. the night of ups and downs. i need to see that beauty again. absolutely i want to see her again.
its the best way to do things. balance and coordination.
he bends behind the knees and the elbows (which sway as he strides)
"baby, check out this new walk." his palms face his hips.
the right arm moves forward in time with the opposite leg.
as assumed, the left arm follows the right leg.
its a confident stroll. no stumbles or noticeable faults.
his composure is nothing special but when studied is ideal beyond belief.
adhesive.
the finest adhesive that keeps everything and keeps it in one piece.
"its up to the skin to hold a person together. and noone or anything else."
his step seems flawless: each step is absorbed first by the heel
each is then is ended by the toes pushing into the next lunge.
of course, each grounding is in one fluent motion.
and now the talented master can multi-task. oh yeah.
the outsider with magical eyes studies primarily the torso,
including the head and neck.
the rocker of the good posture can now walk and talk.
as if there was an introduction or build up,
the chest expands momentarily before the lips part.
his mouth is nothing more than an echoing chamber which molds and bends the vibrating sounds provided by the respected vocal chords.
TIME and LIGHTS. "drop your jaw and really watch me, sweets."
he reaches his destination the walk becomes nothing more than stance.
a specific stance.
the two legs have about two feet between them on the ground.
the right leg stays completely straight and holds less weight.
the left leg is bent slightly at the knee holding most,
the weight is directed to the ball of the left foot.
he raises and lowers his heel into a common tap of the foot.
it follows the external sound which the flying 5 produce well.
"ladies and gentlemen. boys and girls, all eyes on me, now."
3.5 centimeters of plastic. 6 steels. 427 watts. and this boy.
his head sits approximately 2.5 feet above everyone else's hair.
his forearm moves as a clock hand does going from 2 to 6.
mouths close and they see his bare chest. the scarred but bare chest.
nervous over what the flyers make routine.
"shes right fucking there, man. can't you fucking see her?"
"god dammit, relax, yes i see."
"how am i going to fucking do this?"
"youre gonna fucking do this right. she wants you to do it right.
rely on your skin to keep you together. it will not fail you."
we'll skip the five set. the water. the writing. the drive. the tears. the park. the light. the glare. the cigarette. the time.
well now, those of you following along... i, john franciosa, take you to an extremely specific embracing moment. i hope you dont get sick of this study because it is nothing more than that. the inspirations have altered my style so try as best as you can to picture this. however i am leaving out crucial moments.
I picked her up. it was a tag team effort but I wanted to do it alone. i held her behind the knees and across the shoulder blades. her weight was no trouble whatsoever for the work my muscles are capable of. the smiles and anticipation of the upcoming toss are irreplaceable. she was not tossed so much as dropped into the water. her shirt was hugging her body closer than spandex, outlining every feature now that she became wet. absolutely stunning. her wet hands covered her face momentarily and then combed her hair from the front to back revealing her face perfectly. completely taken aback, i stood quiet as a fucking mouse. she just stretched out for me and grabbed on and pulled me close. her head met my right shoulder and her chin was just resting for an indeterminate time. and the front of their bodies seemed to touch at every possible place. both now dripping i smile and just rely on my skin to keep me together. she's relying on hers to do the same but would never think of it. the night of ups and downs. i need to see that beauty again. absolutely i want to see her again.