Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

my tactic is — tactless, unfitting is — to fit some words, unseemly seems to seem discreet of indiscreet improvised and hasty, to love you well, — diversified, as is the moving rise of mine, — instantly numb, — not negligently, always... — sentimental

How many "so-called friends", do you have‽ Did you even try to buy them? Did you care? Did you hear their palaver? When d'you knew that by gazing in their eyes, they'll go away? ⋯·⋯ Will they go away in the claws of their own sigh, inhaling and exhaling their own hate's whisper, wrapped in a silent shout, on the route to hell, at the disappointing call hour of a hungry moon? ⋯·⋯hmm… At the disappointing call hour of a hungry moon, I saw night's finger migrating on the sun eyelid, too determined to find out the loners' unhappiness. All were attired in the garment of lovelessness.