I am the title of the poetry the argument of the essay I'm glazed in a prose style with one's poetic essence I start when the page ends to navigate into your mind I'm like the morning coffee and blood-red wine at night I am the symbiote of loves and as time goes I'm newer I am recited and compared in any trope that's fathomed I am a timelessly kind one living an infinite of feelings I do the best in all I do about offsetting art into a flawless • it verbalized Moon to the Sun in a Bohemian dialect marveling themselves why you still don't know my name

…everything, it's in the speed, delirium as far as the sky, —  we are in antithesis the subjects of a dirty simple game ‧ my shy eyes descend desirously, and yet, I breathe you in this urban decor ‧ she's killing me, she's killing me, (slowly...) she wants my heart, she wants my heart, from my chest ‧ she's so gracefully on top of bored crowd on the road and seems a hidden dance, where two strangers submissively dance ‧ my shy eyes descend desirously, and yet, I breathe you in this urban decor ‧ she's killing me, she's killing me, slowly, — she wants my heart, she wants my heart from my chest; she's killing me, she's killing me, slowly, — she rips my heart, she rips my heart from my chest ‧ burning on the asphalt,   fire's  pulse burns… burns shockingly, burns so beautiful, the heart burns, it burns, I confess... ‧ she's killing me slowly, slowly; she tears my heart, (oh, yes), — from the chest, bitten lips are trembling slightly and gravity atta...