today, the smoldering sun contoured its eyelids with some blue-golden rays and smoky clouds, while its lips have been tattooed in a dusty pink ∙ today, an aqueduct of moods and experiences have recognized me while I've sown questions, (not many/not little), but enough for it, to smile ∙ today, with the pen of silence, I drew butterflies with my hopes in its iris and a paralyzing wheeze, stirring effervescent chills inside a soul's pores ∙ today, perhaps, I'll try to export my day's oddities through a wavering kiss to one waiting in the dark with its dusty pink lips bathed in blue-golden rays

Bathed in the hug of your sun pampered by romped waves, kissed by your cooling breeze in the existence of my dream, wars of any thought get banal. ‧ In your angelic climate, I'm an altar, a question mark, hewed by your voice, by your hearing, as you goggle, stuck in gravity of a delicate l'hawaïenne realm