so. good.

by 📍
When I'm running 
through the dreams of yours, 
they're cuddling me... 
and dressing me up
in the paintings of your thoughts.

When I'm running 
through the dreams of yours,
I rest myself... I even allow myself
to take some drops of them
using the sound of your illustrations.

When I'm running 
through the dreams of yours,
are those other moments
which makes me turn to you again
to gimme paths to other corridors
so good for re-energizing myself


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i wish

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when I wish to sleep, I sleep captive in the fiber of the dreams that float in my mind ⋯ your shadow in my light savors a song's color, infused in my soul's nectar, wrapped in what I wish ⋯ when I wish to see you, I see you as I penned you in the endless sound of my atoms, played by you ⋯ gamer, sailing in my ear, you wait for my whispers in cochlea's curved nook, to listen to what I wish ⋯ (when I wish), a desire smiles on my lips, and through my eyes, having as watcher, a dream that floats… through your mind
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as sweet as a sin...

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I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, when you hold the fasting of me demurely in your soul and mind loving me till God and looking humbled for the light to find a smell of the saint of myrrh. I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, then, when you're waiting for dispensation, that dispensation for love without knowing if it'll come this sweetness of godly thought with the smell of books and innocence. I'm as sweet as a sin, and you… you gotta be a chocolate Jesus looking in the sinner inside you knowing that it is not a miraculous icon or healing source that could heals you of me... me............................as sweet as a sin…
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 ❝ Had I've got the heaven's embroidered cloths enwrought with golden and silver light? Had I've got the blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light? Cause if I'd have, I would spread the clothes under your feet... but I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams. ❞
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good for me

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…and your whispers, (all Greek to me), made my soul flutter, and lips tingle; my mind translated them as it wished, — living a dream, (want you to want me); in my lungs, I could feel growing wings, — silky, translucent wings caressed by lust; my digestive system was overburdened by cocoons' crews, ready to free butterflies; from the forehead of love, I could taste your moistened lips slipping on my lips; like a metaphor of a poet, my eyes shone, letting flow joy in a sweet-toned cascade; the meeting with you was good for me, while falling in love was a magic bonus;
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there's a smile at the corner of my lungs traversed by the bridge of some memory, when i assumed you breathe in my club, wallpapered into different shades of blue like the sky and sea, and my eyes' color… there is a smile that strips your shadows bored and rambled in your shrewd mind while touchy is piercing your gaze's navel explosively to get inside my gaze's navel, instructed passionately to mesmerize you there is a smile chiseled by the stars' dew and another by the gems of trees' kidneys and many others waiting to see your rays in the mood of untangling the noon's hair, tenderized in the meadow of my dreams every time, there is a smile for everything; one lookin' for you, or one lookin' for me; both can have winter's joy or summer's joy; no matter what, each smile shares a story; that's why mine kiss yours, yours kiss mine
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every chance I get

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every chance I get i look for you in memories 𓇼 the thoughts' lips burn‥ demanding to be kissed... 𓇼 next to memories lay lust‥ wants the entire fairy tale 𓇼 words get suffocate‥ grope in longing's wounds 𓇼 how many seasons expired while hopes lost their shine 𓇼 like a coup de foudre questions jet into my mind 𓇼 i feel the color of your eyes smiling at me, clandestine 𓇼 your dreams roll down here, where the talk doesn't exist 𓇼 the poetry constructs you as it wants‥ (lovin' you‥)
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porcelain

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beyond my window is you talking with I don't know who but looks as if you're talking with me in an irrational dialect radiating so, in your eyes, the entrance towards my soul beyond of you is the moon, — the window toward dreams, where some dogs bark to guard fancies' sheepfold by some stars that lurk if you talk with I don't know who but looks as if you're talking with me beyond these hazy thoughts is a porcelain tome which tries your imagination to ask yourself if you are the one who's beyond my window, barking like a dog, guarding fancies' sheepfold, lurking the stars in my eyes
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i'll come running

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here I am

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whisper my name write my mirage experience me, — in the name of longing in the name of verbs in the name of mystery in the name of appetite for my smile, for my eyes that kiss you, caress you for here I am your drunkenness, urging you valiantly to bathe me in the dew of your smile, to see me blossoming on dawn's edge of your lips on mine, — profiled to not get as one perceived feelin' dangerous  for I whisper your name for I write your mirage for I experience you bohème
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j'ai vu...

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today, I found myself talking to you in the language of roses ⋆⋆⋆ (j'ai vu ta vie…),  — i saw your life... (full of lust) ⋆⋆⋆ (j'ai vu ta morte…),  — i saw your death... (full of pleasure) ⋆⋆⋆ then… — (one long kiss...), — in divine harmony
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