Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

Seems that the balance of the universe is upset... The force of light is irritated while the power of darkness grows up a bit into an unexpected ascension. The weather is caught into  an unbearable manic depression, but not for long. Already, the guardian of the universe appeared, applying a magic formula to break the spell. It's called kindness. It's called having care for one another. It's called humanity. May This Be Love, Child...

full weekend, – a sleeping marathon without thoughts tracking thoughts, just a fusion of answers to answers you to be, [have-no-idea], using titles with perfect at imperfect conjugated for even apocalypse to be convinced that no one can't get enough debates when confess is rather a limited stuff so-so incalculable, or too-too versed

I can love you only as I want. Could be politely or disrespectful. With tiny kisses or brutal kisses. Could be locally or universally. True-blue or without scruples. Into a safe perimeter or in a vision. Through lyrics or sound of a song. Premeditated or unpredictable. Like a gentle cat or like a lion. But I will not love you as you request. It isn't any satisfaction guaranteed if your love has a date of expiration.

The distance between us, it's the distance between good‧morning and good‧night. Give me the equator and I come with poles, but I don't know if you'll get faster than me or I'll get faster than you, with a new statement of intent or a new statement of distance for a new declaration of love in the metaphysics form, to tell you to tell me, surgically in English, murmuring, — I love you. Surely, — I'm gonna ask you to love me in your language, from the sun to the moon, from the early morning until midnight, even if the distance between us could reach 100 miles... or… 1000 light-years... My crazy love‧‧‧‧ good‧morning 🌅 good‧night 🌇

I just wanna know (what we're gonna do) if we'll sail to some analogic freedom, with the lively spirit and the ability to multiply, and to simplify any equation, inducing so, the next deep blue movement out of any tendency and any radical exponent of any starting position, justified in any tie game.

  — approximately, how many times a woman has to be conquered...‽ 𓇼 — (a woman is like a château...), has many locked rooms... has a wing on a side in which she keeps locked the memories... also, has a tower where she's keeping some hopes, hopes which are afraid to fly out of soul 𓇼 a woman is not conquered just once, — she must be conquered every day...