Say

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I feel as if you're infiltrated in my veins
as if you're walking like a master 
through my senses...
Go ahead and walk. It's your own right.
I belong to you, Love.
I'm just saying what I have to… — Say

poetic audience

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face à face

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I can't be face to face with you, — and yet, I plunged with aplomb into the starry desires of the fantasy, letting myself be pigmented by the rays of the sun and mystical symptoms of the moon, using the pen of your soul, to take daily your philosophy's shape, chic sketched out, according to your art of loving, emitted sensually through a daring posture of your scent, tamed with sweetened kisses, through all my senses... I can't be face-to-face with you — and yet, inventive, I blindfolded your moon with my sunshine. I whispered to it, you'll find me. Subtle, you did it. You found me, crayoning my inside world. An echo in chaos.
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modern addiction

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Your modern addiction, it's Me... For you got me, you may blame yourself, even to look... at the trouble I'm in brushing off the powder made of a vow. But I'll illuminate you with my love, you to be happy over time, and hypnotized as I can't describe... Beware the sickness. Even if we'd be a quirky machine, we will still erode living in silence in a deep blue sea... Any mistake will take us to a new crawl. You... will show me how...
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Poetic Allusions · Un P’tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

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willingly & knowingly, would you want to be one of my most exquisite dreams‽ (tell me) ‧ (you should try to, you should summon one), (you should jazz-up your soul in this manner) ‧ dare and let yourself feel like a hummingbird of the charm, of the joy, of the life's spectacle ‧ turn into one of my poetic allusions' audience, let your un p'tit je ne sais quoi to devour mine
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mille fois

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i am the sky of the skies above all the skies, bearing the sun of the sun of all the suns, and the moon of the moon of all the moons i am the world of the worlds of all the worlds, bearing the star of the stars of all the stars, and the dream of the dream of all the dreams i am the wish of the wish of all the wishes, bearing the night of the night of all the nights, and the day of the days of all the days i am the love of the love of all the loves, bearing the color of the colors of all the colors, and the joy of the joys of all the joys i am the very best of the best of all the best, for i am the i of myself of all the i of the selves of i, crème de la crème of all the crème de la crème (je suis mille fois un trait distinctif  traduite), while a thousand times is not enough for what i am for any sky, any world, any wish, any love, inculcated
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unknown

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Somewhere, far away, in a hidey-hole of the world, delimited by a lake and a sea is a piece of land where a long time ago, a town has been raised. In that town is a tiny street with only one way out. On that street, at a certain number, is a house. In that house, is a room. In that room lives somebody more or less unknown but who has a few dreams surrounded by a sweetening breeze of memories that tactfully access the happiness' shape. Shape of one who, unexplainable, longs for someone never met…
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dreaming of you

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take what's matter from technology; filters the feelings hidden in the psychic; exteriorize 'em in three-dimensional space; use even some choices, — phone a friend, fifty-fifty or ask the audience if somehow, distraught, you still don't know who sings, "dreaming of you"... —  without objections, accept the answer hashtagged at #NowPlaying,  The Coral
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all that will be

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timid, it glided smoothly the district of my gaze on your pent-up beauty 𓇼 chambré, dreams' lips, have braked in a flash above your poem's lips 𓇼 warmed, the tender view on the tread of this thrill began to gurgle an opus 𓇼 all that will be, is written as music dances with life, as i am dancing with you
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oh yeah

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with the prelude… into B-flat to final chord into G-sharp , his lips with mine got in duet ‧ with lust pulsation in high-C and kiss's riff on radio waves, we literally laid a full climax ‧ oh yeah, suit of a desire's thrill played on repeat, hued in bis-es of B-flat, G-sharp and high-C
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give me a reason

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his daily waking routines are to make me feel differently... i'm loved in such a manner that some can't even imagine ⋯ syntax and morphology of love is structured in the language of his feelings, amazingly written in the chromatic of his desires ⋯ desires translated into equations, defined by exponents at powers of destiny, mine and his, invoked, to give him, to give me a reason ⋯ a reason roused and formulated in an esthetic conversation, using the pulse of pumas, black pumas; (he loves me in many ways)…
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