evil mama

by
your own you, out of my own asset,
it's synonymous with the way you love me,
it's the anatomy of an imaginary hug,
it's our unconsumed touch,
it's your way to caress me
with the softest appellative, evil mama...
it's the combination of both of us,
the composers of happiness, —
me too time too time too... you...

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boom-boom

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Shangri-La

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as sweet as a sin...

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je t'accuse

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human

by
Take a knife. Make sure that's well-sharpened. Cut my soul in two and wait quietly to see by yourself what it's filled with. In the beginning, you will observe the sea with the cloudy waves of melancholy . And you will see the sun. A scorching sun . Then, you're going to feel a comforting marine breeze . (it likes to walk tenderly through my soul) Cut a little bit more to see how many waves of laughter jump out, but be careful to not spill 'em. (they're therapy for my various disappointments) Not to forget. You will see some failures . Ignore them. Someday I'll fix them. Cut a bit deeper and you'll find dreams which I still have, and also desires and fantasies… (I've to mention I have a special affinity with 'em) After that, I'd like you to look carefully at the top. Right there is happiness . Do you recognize it? I'm Human. I'm a lot of things each day of the week. I have about everything in this soul of mine, but I'm not afraid of t...
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nobody like me…

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… bullet skein unfurls camouflaged vows at a random time of the day, mechanically ; mechanically, you smile, thinking of me, — thinking of me with you and without you; the time, enthusiastically, it whistles at you for you made a top choice , but you knew… you knew from the start… (since we met), there's nobody like me … [no–bod–y] 🫦
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the blue

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yum

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in the spatial pub of a dream, your time reserved the table, — music; the crystalline gestures of us are orchestrating the main menu; we taste a smile, but dessert winks at us, pushing the moment into a yum ambiance; we're admired by a hug and a kiss which do pirouettes on poetry's floor (...in the spatial pub of a dream)
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clair de lune

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« Votre Γ’me est un paysage choisi que vont charmants masques et bergamasques jouant du luth et dansant et quasi tristes sous leurs dΓ©guisements fantasques. Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur, l’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune, ils n’ont pas l’air de croire Γ  leur bonheur et leur chanson se mΓͺle au clair de lune, au calme, clair de lune, triste et beau, qui fait rΓͺver les oiseaux dans les arbres et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau, les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres. »  
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