Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

unhurriedly, a murmur flatters my eardrum, stirring up inside me an insane appetite [of him] [and he knows…] [and he doesn't stop…] he persists to tender my nerves delicately cooking 'em better with butter, fancied well [expertly…] [to me…] ✶ [head up], [I talked enough]; [what about you?] [truth] or [run run run], [god only knows where] ✶ [just the same, you'll get back into my arms...]

the world is dizzy and keeps rolling still 🌹 the hungry people consume only dreams 🌹 a poet paints the words as life should look alike 🌹 dizzy to the brim, i consume and write 🌹 dream a little dream, — let it scream happy… 🌹 [thru you… thru me…]

the Persian buttercups made biogeometry in me 𓇼 the beauty of flowers are in my body and soul 𓇼 even when divinity's dark their breeze expels 𓇼 the hid geopathic stress purifies my naturalness 𓇼 my happiness gets power influenced gently by love 𓇼 stuck in the middle with you in me blooms sensuality 𓇼 your lips sigh to me politely the poem of love in two  𓇼 so blame me, don't blame me you are in me, i am in you

with the ink of happy... single in the dreams using the alphabet of stars, in your calendar, like a party drug, I am... a mysterious moon written and portrayed in any day's caprice tactically as you sing in my crepuscular zone indifferent what season could be felt in you

It's wrong to say, «often», when in fact you're coloring your words, constantly, in the hue of my dreams, provoking me to paint even the sounds full of passion and the silence of each hidden thought. Moments are flying with terms gathered in any instrument that breathes through the tones of my soul, enough to lay them on the velvety soul of yours, manifested every day in the chromatic of our galaxy. Without you and me, here we go, further, collecting any effect, proposed at the level of art with the opportunity for pigmenting all our senses, using the subtle tint of love, [red] – the loyal‧taboo, [blue] – as we are.

You are the time. That time out of a past-tense. That time from a contemporary action…. That time out of the future. An unknown time. You are that kind of time hidden between the seconds made from hours and words for showing love at and after sharp…. You are the time…. But you're a dream…. Basically, in such a way, I met you…. At one midnight, shaking suavely, making me be irresistible in front of your bow and arrow, sent over-time, into a time, and out of time, in this place of the very here, where the clocks were forgotten to be spun, but having still, an independent functionality… all the way….

I think I need to invent another alphabet to compose inexhaustible stories for you to get drawn on some of them. And I think stars should be the orator which shall have to read... to you some fancy-schmancy literature well-defined in a berceuse sound able to drag you in sweet dreams classified in intimate aromas when you'll wish to be absorbed with different seductive sentiments... seductive sentiments of the morning, — having top note, – naughty seductive sentiments of the daytime, — having heart note, – a privy gentle solace seductive sentiments of the evening, — having base note, – an irresistible love and in-between, — all seductiveness, — having intermixed notes, similarly to any cosmopolitan moment harmonized to an Indian summer, smoothly hugged in winter's tenderness.

get up, you, the jewel with divine perfume; rise and reveal yourself on the fantasy paths spiced with the nightly romance, smooched with lovely intense velvety vibrations... get up and sips nectar out of a timid beam hidden between some fluffy clouds and the twinkling of the morning dawn on the soul shadow of a starry sky... get up and let yourself be kissed and seduced; (get up...), — get up, it's later than you think... you're under spell of a warm embrace in my penned poem