Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

If. If questions are the keys to all basic curiosities and one of the keys to the question of happiness imply sex and candy as a properly shaped answer, to incite any secret door of the psyche to get open in the soul of the fairy tales read at the gold hour for you to feel me, as if I'm with you, right there, even if I am right here, in a deeply cocooned test, sipping subtle some booze, while I'm surrounded by music that I've chosen to listen to it right now, picturing you. I'll always remember us this way. And that's even not complicated. On the contrary, is the perfect cover for lots of waves of laughter we brought to each other lavishly times. So again, shake it, baby... (as if you shake me in your arms).

you, — my dearest dream, the one that makes my physiognomy to be simultaneously wild and precious next to you, what kind of plan do you have tomorrow, and how do you intend to transform me, and in what kind of language you'd gonna talk to me, because mine will be set in deep blue dialect, as you, forever to percept me a gift of love omnipotent

in my universe, there’s another universe... even better, in your universe, there’s another universe... and both are so amazing, and complicated... and impossible... and yet, so deliciously are both dimensions... and animals talk and you... you're the sunflower...

avec ce goût suave du péché, — une chanson, sans élément de l’innocence, — un script, juste comme sont tes pensées à mes pensées, tes lèvres à mes lèvres, ta maniéré à ma manière

we are drifting miles away but we get along just fine, — browsers' sorcerers help persistent magic of net's air brings securely all mysteries at rendezvous of our spirits midnight-sun•midday-moon ennobles our waves' quartet, — we are where we are, — here

you know i'm gonna love you until the end of the world, and then, i will wait for the creation of ever is happening, to happen, again and again, while both of us will listen to the same old song, (preferred and rose) by (me and you), the one who loves me and knows exactly how i want it

What do you do at the hour when I miss you? I, culpable, I reset you sometimes… I don't cry… That isn't an option… for in sentimental moments I picture you as if you're a flower, a faultless fruit, to pick you up, to taste you, without a shame to tell you, — I love you daring pleasure. Mine…

apt, qualified, trained, disciplined, with love in jaspé step of sun's beam, is tacked tenderly, the dawn's colors a color is me, found in any tableau amassed from many songs out of life straight in the bottom of your soul, — morningstar is a passional painter using any maneuver to seduce me with [an absolute aroma if I want candy]

for I'm still under your spell, it's because of love, which, scanned in a guiding light, got inside my constellation, to create an alluring fantasy with the geometrical scent architectured by your smile in my tomorrow's thoughts placidly calculated for you

if you'd gonna disappear, in a random evening gloom, my sweet one, my bitter one, I'd sail crazy on the sea-foam, with a sack that's full of clay, and a back-full of twig-sprigs, to reshape you from beginning with the power of my hand; (long and monotonous labor, just to bring you back to life,  lovely femme adored woman), me, a sick Pygmalion... — c'mon, wander, Galatea (long and monotonous labor, just to bring you back to life, lovely femme adored woman) [x2] If you'd gonna disappear, be your death made of life only, my sweet one, my bitter one, I'd go to the ice's countries to rebuild you out of icicles, dressing you into a hoarfrost, — (after that, be free to leave wherever your dreams may lead); If you'd gonna truly fall at the moment of a high reveal, I would quietly come to you, recompose you out of angels; (I would quietly come to you,  recompose you out of angels) [x2] After all this, I will leave... — (humiliated and bamboozled) to the side w...

Are inscriptions through all your dreams that dream about me. They're written in the language of love utilizing the alphabet of heroes and saints, together to bloom through any appearance. Any self of me with any self of you transformed us into poems just to run from story to story created by the fruitfulness of your hallucinations which visualize me. Memories are seen even from the first picture. So extravagantly your love rocks, magically sheltered in the carrying stars to where you are...

his lips pressuring mine gives tenderly turbulence our archaeological elixir transpires carnal desire a feu rouge fueled to give, i am... (gimme your love)

I'm curious about many, and a lot; a lot of things. I have to do something, but also, I should try this, and that... even those, — so better do not disturb. Don't you get in my universe if you'll not succeed in grasping the manner I'm listening to a song, or if your emotions aren't linked with all the music that I've chosen to listen to. It isn't an experiment. The answers to many questions sit in waiting for a subtle happiness. That happiness of which size doesn't matter if in music are found the solutions.

songs that are elapsing through my verses gives you adrenaline excess (subito...) you are caught in ce petit quelque chose just like watching the wheels  

— Can I tell you a secret? I'm not very good at keeping secrets.    — What?    —  I just wanted to take another look at you. Look at me.          I love you! You're the music to my eyes!         They can't hurt us. We're far from the shallow now.

To define entertainment, happiness, love or whatever, it's better to be done, only at your own present time, isn't it? I'm feelin' good. ᵀᴼDʳᵉᵃᵐAᵇᵒᵘᵗYᵒᵘ is a Sunday kind of Love.

juste pour le péché d'être aimé de moi, juste pour le péché d'être aimé de toi... un message séraphique et suggestif, — [blessé par un bruit nerveux d’aucuns esprits imbéciles... et accusateurs...], flotte dans l'écho silencieux d'un rêve où j't'écoute chérie, t'm'écoute chérie, mimant ludique une passion charnelle 𓇼 ... si certains ne peuvent pas être excités par la musique, à quoi ça sert d'expliquer, basiquement, c'est juste la musique [... là]

coffee, — (sweeten with the honey of blues), hot, — (as in as much to feel its vibration), firmly, — (to wake up into a delicious dream), served, — (blueprint of your lips on my lips), when, — (what about you'll give me a sign), price, — (my only one smile)

Again, I woke up in my mind with you and your petite face, having the stench of a defendant with some uncertain sense. Again, with your pensive eyes, you gaze at me and manage, the whispers from your paradise as me to be transformed. Again, you've sniffed me and put me right to sleep, invoking what I wanna hear, me to be yours, profoundly and attentive. Simply like that, again, I am under your spell, an amateur, an incident, a song in all and any, or saboteur of a free soul. Again, so innocent, you morphed slightly in my thoughts, a symbiote who dips in me... perturbing (all my dreams...), (my judgment and my feelings), (desire… sex… and love...).

let me put it this way, (show you how), my thoughts are irreplaceable bijoux penned on your earlobe, take a look at you, as always, will kiss them (deeply), like a go-getter to listen to their poem adorned in love's attire i wear for you‥

Is it too harmfully to your lungs to inbreathe the air full of my love stretched out inside you? Is it too harmfully to your eyes get gazing in mine, while my kisses are spreading inside you? Is it so harmful to your liver to dive in my smile when you're so hidden in the Eden of my mind? Is it so necessary for you to make a heart transplant knowing already that's no longer yours but mine?

❝ This is true, my love that the lightning flashes in the light of your eyes makes the clouds in my heart explode and blaze This is true, my love that your sweet lips are red as a blushing bride This is true, my love that the tree of paradise flowers within you that your footsteps beat to the rhythm of my soul the night sheds drops of dew at your sight that the morning surrounds you with light from delight that the touch of your hot breath intoxicates my soul This is true, my love that daylight hides in the dark of your hair that your voice makes the world fall silent to hear your song and that the universe is nothing but your lovemaking. This is true, my love.... ❞

with your lungs in my mind I love you… — you breathe me so beautifully ⋯ with your heart in my eyes I love you… — you pulsate to me, happiness ⋯ with your eyes in my soul I love you… — your charming dreams are me ⋯ any subversive's acts of some are chased away... — and more I don't wanna know ⋯ all on my mind are murmuring I love you... — wherever, anytime, everywhere, forever

No. I'll not talk about me. I'll refuse that. I already saw how your light got scared tracing me at all gymnastic's apparatus of grammar's fantasy, which I called 'em, poetically, (free verses), (essences) a.s.o. No. I will not lend, to anybody, my shoes. It's risky. It'll make your darkness, as well, to hide, or even more, to evaporate itself. Also, I don't want that. You need a balance. I hope that your own wishes get fulfilled, and next to your joys and loves, will drip more drops of,  — happiness, love, money, healthiness, inspirations, and marvelous hours next to the ones you truly cherish. Hope your new choices be without errors. If I've been your life's mistake, I have hope you learned a lesson and will be no repeat. Hope you'll have a happy holiday. I wish you. My thoughts are true. Will travel to this space of the hazard. Some will find them, some not, some will simply ignore them. But it's okay.☺ As for me, I'll be around st...

About 60 km off Marseille, at Mouriès, in Bouches-du-Rhône, in a paradise realm, at the age of 94, the great artist, Charles Aznavour passed away leaving behind an extraordinary treasure of songs dipped in love stories. Piously, the world bows in front of him for the last time. Adieu, Monsieur.

the deities of the autumn run in my nerves under the stars of your sky, love; watching your smile talking with my smile, they perceive precisely what you need; like a dandelion in my dream's shell, you are; so vivid you breathe the air I breathe;

velvety breeze tenderly sun obscure cloud manipulates magnificently your murmurs highs and lows Tu m'avais dit — Filme moi

Dear dizzy fall day from this time of the year, even if it seems to be the season of the witch, I dunno what kind of strategy are you trying. To be accurate, I didn't imagine our dating be so grayish and cold and without your golden and brassy and cuddled and warm sunshades. Fortunately, I was inspired to put on me some perfume with sprightly notes, enough for avoiding any wrong situation, also to reinvent another story, with each part of your sun, inclined on me, to look shinier. Guess that could be one of your deep excuses, in your hurry to see me, and is accepted. Yet, do whatever's necessary to fix up your mood. Even implore a competent one for a prescription… — P.S. — (Do it AˢSᵒᵒⁿAˢPᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ). Winter knocks.

if you're afraid of not getting overweight, it's recommended to drink at least 100 ml of alcohol   before eating ; alcohol eliminates  fear,  so  get drunk… Who's On First?

the breeze of words… have spread a bittersweet… scent, gingering like a ghost at the edge of a dreaming moment i found myself flying in your poem's sky... (was amazing); captured in sun's fist of the story, i got trapped, loving you unspoken feelings have emanated in me, the joy's graphic, convincing me to KᵉᵉᵖOⁿKᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍOⁿ in its tender murmur, — (carpe diem)

You made me look different in all the pictures taken not with the camera but with your mind My absence is only felt without where or when why or how, without who or punctuation signs Yet I've to admit that ellipses are accepted and glyph's variant of a bullet point indicates to me as being much stronger now in broken places Your attitude sent me deep in the blues, again… All memories captured erstwhile shine wildish urging me to pick up the pieces [KᵉᵉᵖOⁿKᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍOⁿ]

in the darkness of daylight, left on the hand of a poem, intervened some glimmers, a black & blue's countdown, you to identify my name, hid in the dent of your universe, where a few seek for stills, or are amazed over the moon…

Waves of lyrics, — the new arguments. Each day only you... — a new fairy-tale. An ephemeral season... — it's the host. Me... longing for you in agony, — lost. [You live in mine, — I live in yours, —] Past brought till present, in the narration of a kiss... — kept. At least our future to be concrete. In the scent of each night, each phase, — it is felt... a bohemian, — You... Me, — sonnet. Both of us... — chemistry and math.

Your modern addiction, it's Me... For you got me, you may blame yourself, even to look... at the trouble I'm in brushing off the powder made of a vow. But I'll illuminate you with my love, you to be happy over time, and hypnotized as I can't describe... Beware the sickness. Even if we'd be a quirky machine, we will still erode living in silence in a deep blue sea... Any mistake will take us to a new crawl. You... will show me how...

the gravity of some wolfish eyes took me around somewhere, to a linguistics empire, to define masterly, its entire love, composed with hopes kept in musical notes, well-balanced for someone to stay out of sight; [this's me], [this's you] [you], hidden in a semiotic shadow of the universe, — waiting for me

surprises are your pièce de résistance with which you move me, [tactically] and yet I wonder if I'll mind You with my curiosity about your intentions will you reshape me even tomorrow, [perhaps] in a realm, or a philomel[?] [shh], I just caught in flagrante delicto a slyly gaze tattooing similarly smile dreams feel blurry; come, brighten 'em

lips biting lips for the taste of sweetest sin with a sound of a rosy smile filled with the essence of the longing on fire, — lips fall in love...

like a starved wolf, you tear me from outside until your soul, then, till your rain, just to gather me to transform me into your storm, adequately to make me thunder at the moon, and the minutes to get mad, while are gazing, passionately, toward our wild love

One day, in the Northern Hemisphere... from a season, you, the sweet young thing I philosophy deeply about, having the frequency and the magnitude of my thoughts, you will truly notice how much you have missed me... Sure, you will read this when I've given up on you already, at the hour of a season from the Southern Hemisphere, for I get tired of watching you playing with other souls, — [so innocents some...] but too demonized by themselves, — [probably...], or [because...] on one of your "beastly days", willy-nilly... you pointed to all, who you, indubitably, are...

my love… — my dream… — my gush of sensations coolly and passionately… — you perform a gracious promenade in my mind tactical instructed as if you burn my lights out… —  instantly I shiver, I glow sensing you in me indecently and inexhaustible like swelling waves which vanish fully between my thighs

you know all of me 𓇼 at the beginning everything was black and white; after that, it appeared blue and yellow 𓇼 slowly, like a deity with an army of stars i conquered all the earth's colors, diffusing on you a wild and exotic aroma of my essence 𓇼 a few months later, undomesticated, — love bloomed invitingly, like fresh roses‧‧‧ yet, not so  hungry, like the wolf

It's felt in any cell of my body, in every thought of my spirit, in every breath of my lungs. It's like a kiss in a marathon with no finish line but a wave wildly animated in my sleep. It's the gazette headline before sunrise. An empire explored, wrapped, and fairly, to milk it. It's a hidden fever spiced with torpedo-love ingredients for the wild savor of happiness. It's what's infuriated by your mind and who you are while insinuate of being my 100% safe turbo lover.

some tribulation is dawdling me till feelings of an authentic cringe get adequately to you to manifest the dialect… why-to-understand when sounds charming in what seems comely, like a thrill, while during the feigned touch of mine offers joy and directs my pulse inside your cardiac territory, just to dive me inside you, ingeniously

Would you like a glass of life? An intimately one for quenching a mysterious thirst modeled by a thought, explosively undressed with a starved kiss, debauched in a night from a week extracted out of a month in a fairy year... Clothes disappeared from inside to outside burning with the lust of our passionate rhythm, where our gazes intersected each other continuing till our lips met... and when you stopped to release me squeezing me with your mind, in your being, without letting me feel as if I'd be a prisoner even if I'm captivated by your nuclear love. What do you say? Another glass? Intimately? After all, what booze can get you drunk, louder than life?

  like sugar, it's the insane smell of passion sliced with the longing's shield 𓇼 its tasty aroma is sheltered on anyone's lips who's still looking for love's mystery 𓇼 these mellifluous fangs of an abstruse love sequestered the lips of my thoughts, once 𓇼 cunningly, it anchored at my bosom's lips, at my hips' lips, until it whelmed me, fully 𓇼 that's why i emit the mad scent of passion

his galaxy abounds with inspiration and pours love... and melancholy, — right there up above, spinning on the ray of a star, I feel I am… — seduced I'm drawn by him in a poem I'm the flower of his dreams well-mannered by the spirit of his ink

I AM The Sweetest Of Devils  If Christ Is The Answer Then What Is The Question? My Devotion Will Never Fade I Crave For You a Tenderness Through Violence 

a velvety translucent touch, like a caress of the longing's sun, grasped my shoulder, on the melodic line of a kaleidoscopic thought, prognosticated to remediate the corrosive behavior of my debauchery insomnia ⋯ a charming smile, and a loving voice made itself heard, whispering to me, — «i'm your god…», «whatever you wish for, i give it to you» … [with my eyes wide open, deep within me, i saw myself in its own image and likeness, understanding who's me for my own self] ⋯ the brilliant faith shines with splendor because of what i am, — the fact that i am

the present-day has proposed to me a pilgrimage through thoughts, encouraging me to access elegantly some of those moments spoken, engraved, inscribed, taped, engrafted as ǝʌᴉʅ memory, (for some) while (for others...), deep down, a (hoodoo...), (woman just for you...), to find out if you'll ever call me back... you, who perceived me in songs' scent calculated in a diplomatic climate, classy attired in lusty transparency, as your whisper was reaching out to me, clinically moaning, – (I need you‧‧‧) without letting me time to think to all that you've been thinkin'... acting, as if you'd possessed a pilot's psyche domesticated by a crazy woman's love ☼ day of today has proposed... I complied

his daily waking routines are to make me feel differently... i'm loved in such a manner that some can't even imagine ⋯ syntax and morphology of love is structured in the language of his feelings amazingly written in the chromatic of his desires ⋯ desires translated into equations, defined by exponents at powers of destiny, mine and his, invoked, to give him to give me a reason ⋯ a reason roused and formulated in an esthetic conversation, using the pulse of pumas, black pumas; (he loves me in many ways)…

I don't know why, but the morning's coffee took the flavor of searching. It began to look for the future in answers already lived in those stories which ripped my soul's skin off and froze the blood in my veins, putting me to fight with illness and to take a drive to hell to meet all the devils. Also, as if it wasn't enough, the wretched death has shown up taking from me my parents, my puppy-girl, and my brother!  I'm at another coffee and the strong savor touch of the blues is still felt in it. Despite anything of these, I've got some mind over what matters. I live! In my entire being, all my livings and emotions yelled, live! Live with your own rules. Do it! Let the good times roll. Nothing else matters. Carpe Diem!

Today confirmed its magic. No matter wherever you'll be it's meant you to feel me. It's a demented sentiment as if I'd be touching you, You… The entity of my soul, the concept of my thoughts, with a renewal agreement validating again my love sealed by a mysterious kiss.

my thoughts, — traveling aimlessly from place to place, — have been transformed by your desires beyond the savage dreams, — le besoin de la nuit is reflecting dans le mystère de ton l'ocean

she wears the attire of his kisses, of his touches, of his comforts she's not naked, but covered entirely with the expensive suit of love (his love) (not of him) (not the other) are you embarrassed to get naked? she's wearing proudly this attire for she's been loved and she is still... (because...) and (any-time of the year) gratuitous, love leads 'em anywhere

I don't want any existence to be the most powerful region in the world. I want all of Earth to be Happy and Powerful. Everyone to BE characterized exactly as the epochal meaning of FREEDOM is. No Borders. Just FREE! I want the entire beautiful vision to be heard, to happen to, — so come follow me down spread your feelings out