Navy stretches her dark sleek fingers across the sky.

Scarring the horizon with dark bruises and holes of colored passion.

She licks the seems of my dusty levis,

fighting through the choking cling of rodeo dust.

She imbraces the wet ink which cuts the pasty bleakness,

of this lifeless parchment, in healthy sweeping swathes.

She holds poseidon close to her bossom,

letting him and his creatures rejoice in her pure beauty. 

Her sharp darkness, her clean passion, and her crisp lush heartbeat,

pounding back the light of day, the dust of turmoil.

Navy stands alone against the world, with deadly intent.