mind...

by
no matter what we preserve to do,
we're guilty of everything, even if
for the most part, our mind tries
to unleash constructive emotions


poetic audience

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mille fois

by
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, crΓ¨me de la crΓ¨me of all the crΓ¨me de la crΓ¨me (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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the island

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come... — catch out my poetry's nipples with the island lips of yours ‧ suck out of it... the rain of my emotions announced in the forecast of love ‧ any dose will transfer in you the energy from the nest of my stars ‧ the molecular activity of my atmosphere is gonna erect your hemisphere ‧ our happiness from the present of now will immortalize any picture falling down  ‧ the vapors of our passion will sign with pseudo name, — [end of the world]
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solitaire

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  the loyalty of an impeccable, known " l'grand solitaire ", it is a hobbyist of dreams that's revising its priorities, adopting passionately and yet furtively, a love's course ‧ it knows that fate will not be blamed for sloppy games of the ignorant folks who fail to adjudge that a schism it is just another way to spend time with the lovely one ‧ after all, a dream has dreams to remember… by and by
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somewhere

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an explicit saline councilor in the deepness of my eyes, sings prominently your song its treasured susurrations bent to my heart's pond, somewhere in the right ventricle a beauty orchestrated by lungs like a Scottish bagpipe sound made to oxygenate all senses
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body blues...

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an unstoppable artistically silhouette [it's mine, not yours] a frisson into body blues concealed [that's yours, not mine] dream-makers are drawing the mood [eagerness has charm] any thought into my dreamt dreams [prove it to be what I need now] loving you, loving me is not fantasy, [even if all about it looks so alike]
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vortex

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you, in any of my thoughts, kill the silence with the jaw of the fantasy; the light of your vocalizes fills the darkness making saints and devils tremble; hidden behind a mask, everyone omits how fragile you are, [hero/antihero at once]; like an insane wildish force of sea's vortex is your character acting in the love's name; and is, and is not revenge, and is, and is not  justice, but just your elixir, quelling a gaffe;
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emotion

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my emotion got been written at the morning coffee with the ink of dream that dreams me… the influence of mine with yours spun up to the sky for blooming in a color's custody full of desires… our lust made us confess again, how wildly about we're to each other… then… everything around us smiled
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adrenaline

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every morning, before sniffing out the day's whispers, I'm taking first, my adrenaline's dose, [as usually] 🫧 the sun, the chirping of the tiny sparrows, the breeze of the sea, try impressing my windowpane 🫧 each of them takes care of any part of me, improving magically, my coiffure, my eyes, my mood 🫧 the hugs, the kisses, the innocent giggles, are advanced by love's light that loves bathing in me...
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