my sweet and tender beast

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I let the beauty of me be sought in the world
and as the clue, the moon became the sun. 
Enchanted, the shore became the tide 
playing between sunset and sunrise allured
by a whisper that can be as well as yours,
[profondo blu...], my sweet and tender beast

poetic audience

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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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The First Evening [Première Soirée]

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The clothes were almost off… of her; Outside, — a tree… too indiscreet spies masterfully with any of its leaves to see her closer, closer… [it got gaped]. Perched, on my enormous easy chair, half nude, she clasped her hands. Her feet were trembling on the floor with that finesse, [a finesse as she is…]. I watched, — a waxed light's ray trapped into a tiny branch outside the window how's butterflying above her mouth, and up, over her breast, so pride and ripened. I kissed her delicately ankles. She held a sweetly brutal laugh which scattered into virgin trills  —  a jolly laugh so crystalline… Her feet hid under her chemise revolted said, — 'please stop it!…' But I laughed at her cries —  I knew she really liked it. Her eye trembled beneath my lips, but they've closed at my touch. Her head went back; she cried: 'Oh, really! That's too much! 'My dear, I'm warning you…' I stopped her protest with a kiss and she laughed, low —  a l...
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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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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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help yourself to me

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I am trained to remember even today about some clouds in silvery tempers, brought from nowhere to bring still, out of the blue, a frightening rainfall ▫ I tend to feel the drops' corpulence and their moisture under my soles still, counting my steps and fluid feints while it's lauding my team's equipment ▫ It's like I'm absorbed in the whispers that sends you to help yourself to me, if you have those goals enough to win when you step onto my handball court ▫ As an athlete, I'm trained to notify you, I was born to be a champion. So I am.
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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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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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On a banal day, everyone you'll meet will tell you, relax, it'll pass away. But nobody will say how and when. Me, like everybody, I'm gonna tell you, — I've been there. I was confronted with a situation similar to yours... [almost...]. Didn't you feel first an indescribable pain that ran through your veins and blood, and all your being, working like a symbiotic, trying to transform you into something else, enough to be able to face fighting with your fury, with your weakness, with every fear that you've been thought that's well hidden? [surely, you felt it... surely, you've been transfigured...] If somebody will tell you that understands you, believe not. It's far to be similar to something lived by others. You have to resist not to lose your mind. Hold on till will appear that bright day to wake you up. Once awakened, you will observe you have the same look outside, but inside you'll be different. You'll be much stronger. You'll have a n...
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