Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

one day you are to me my gifted master-chief which gives aroma to my joy thru lots of love but on another day you're a deep-rooted one who set me not to walk that walk… too much one day you are the fancy face in my tomorrow and on another day the essence of my words one day seems is archives along with others, so, erase data, impress today, to get our late, earlier

in the manuscript of your soul, I am your prime soloist, defined to render the charm of a ballet directed by you in the airspace of your temple, where you adhered to lift me up using ideas and tactics in the movement of love, to see how often per day I'm dreamt

the eyes are coughing your patience, the lungs are inundating your echoes, the body feels your grey atmosphere, the soul emits perfect your whispers, the night goes on silky in your dream, your frisson utters how you love me on the earth on the sun on the moon

your nerves, — aphrodisiac to my nerves your yearning, — frisson to my yearning your whisper, — emollient to my whisper your gazing... — irresistible to my gazing you-you, — explosive passion into me-me your kiss, it's pronounced [love me, sweet] for your lips are softer than cotton-candy for your eyes are a haze of the peppermint for your lungs respires my daring dreams for your mood is set in me through a song for my allusions communicate with yours

strange bouquets of sentiments invade subtle my spirit the steam of tempting fragrances, - linden, mint, and chamomile the flu's period flourished amid inundating with the fire burnin' inside gradually the joy is a blessed achoo... instinctively, I'm thinking of you...

be aroused by traces of my smile... — a peony's taste at the route of your lips, a canvas of incidents expressed with the force of gravity at the power of ambition and hope in finesses of a fantasy metamorphosed with the art of a kiss for the fault of an overwhelming attraction incited by distance and accessed discreetly with that luring call at 1-800-love of the morning heat subjugated in a blue opaline confusion of a dream

your absence in the pervy form using the kinetic energy potency invaded my thoughts last night channelizing at absolute your love in the endorphins of my body just to climb in the opposite direction  to another passionate momentum with your lust curled in my pretty, par excellence to build something ingenious when you get to me set

you saw in me, an aphoristic artifact, as if you'd waited for the one like me, skilled to exhume your subtle attitude sowing a fancy with my hug and kiss, i guided in your soul my thrill, decent, to bud in you, my hedonistic apogee excited, love's emanation, matured you to feel me like a woman, day in, day out adorning your galaxy, with my identity

into love's apotheosis, I am your tales' realm into eon's boom-boom I'm your subconscious with your inscape soul, you're looking for me to live you, to make you, to feed you, to free you soothed, [to love me...] happier, [to wake you up]

incarnated in white flowers, an intrusive picture with you, skilled to obfuscate any liar, uses as incantation, an elixir; it's dosed by dew's influence cosmic vocalized by crickets, to protect my new day's lust, signed in a last night's dream

As you glance toward a memories' hour, you hear some weezery whispers coming from the sun and stars. They seem to be the gift of a charlatan with the audience in a surplus of nothingness, well wrapped in the ingenuity of a teal hue that breathes and shines between the teeth of the moon. Took just a jiff to catch you in joy's attire as you glanced toward a memories' hour.

Psst, watch out [here I come] set in a new collection of bottled poems built by the neurons and electrons of the psychic sounds, fine merged in many curtains of stars created in the hours of dreams and painted with the sea's ink, also voted by sun in polls of the moon while our mind and soul perfume are mixing smiles for happiness is us in the New Year

take what's matter from technology; filters the feelings hidden in the psychic; exteriorize 'em in three-dimensional space; use even some choices, — phone a friend, fifty-fifty or ask the audience if somehow, distraught, you still don't know who sings, "dreaming of you"... —  without objections, accept the answer hashtagged at #NowPlaying,  The Coral

warm water, hot thoughts, on you, slipping in me, through me, slowly, soothing me for chasing any doubt, yours, — intrusive just to fix me up for any lust of any kind of longing to not become something banal but to promote new vogue of our love just because today is that lazy day  

hey… are you in the corridor of hope, sniffing through the jelly pudding, whipped cream, hot chocolate, and baby milk with other instant items‽ ⋯ hey… I'm here… in the corridor of love, wandering through the liqueur of gods, well held in the velvety sweet sparkles, for the lips to get rich with their flavor ⋯ and who's the one who's going to pay for all these delis… you… sexy thing؟‽

icicle in gallbladder panic in the spleen, pain in the thoughts, suspicion in the liver, character modified, a drug, the best hug, free come and get it, I feel you feel good, sweet cherry blues

i want you to know each day is profound, exactly as you left me, gone and howled till I've been light enough to fly into your mind, full of trouble and rituals for this incident to hap just by making me to fall… [in your love] i want you to know that anything you did and you do to me still shine on through forever as wherever you're kept to feel me in fondness of flowers with pigments of my sunrise, tamed to get lost in your eyes

here I go walking between the plural possessives of the paintings, sculptures, and music, evaluated through numbers at the power of words to express the feelings of your heart using any pastel thought, to satirize any xenophobe soul and also mediocrity of some who dared to shade somehow the beauty putting in light the [hate] what [they call it love] but no one has no idea, — I accept no compromise

same date, same month, same hour, different year exploring deeply the reflections of the story I am while other new chapters like many myriad others are waiting happily to be sublimely explored and invoked at the category of wonder with pleasure using some joyfulness & the visionary innocence of my spirit balanced delightfully at life's power in the abundance of love to my subtly delectation tchin-tchin à la ᵏᴼᵏᴼ🥂

honey on the lips, cheerfulness in the mind, soul full of colors, butterflies in the stomach, golden in your hands 𓇼 amusement at each step, everything to be designed with happiness and wrapped in the magic of love, when you fulfill a wish 🎄

his lips narrate gently on her skin the metagalactic love felt for her… (a blue marvel love enlightened), a loyal companion, (the moon), in all its stage and with any kind of imperfection and excellency; her lips nonchalantly articulate tenderly, his name, — a name that invites you simultaneously to relax while manifests by self wildly and avidly in lure's parade as is felt in their acute passion; his lips and her lips scream love and express their longing, without waiting for the morning lights, — their deifying's to live the moment;

another morning, mourning yourself hidden in the sheets of my thoughts like a chameleon to invent others lovely future for us, zigzagging and alerted by every message appeared on your screen, with nothing from me another day for me with you as usually only in my dreams, — pretending happy hanging out with a lovely tea of jasmine in a metaphysical fiction, suggestively anticipating you'll know who knows you absorbs you setting you to take the hit

the color of You… blurred the light of the moon, of the sun, of the sky, accenting drunkenness of your love wandering somewhere in a deep of the ocean, wearing peaceably the action of longing in a blue aura of the mystery I am, close and far, simultaneously in all your visions; ♡ the color of Me is a drug collection, [whispers, smiles, hugs, and kisses]

if you insist the dictum of love is religion, I'll contradict you, for indisputable isn't in the cosmic period of my present time where even contours of snowflakes see what I mean it... nonchalantly proving and amusing in games of the spirits, felt and used in the metaphors of each day, so well devised thru steady descriptions, portrayed by this agnostic soul of mine, fine demonized in beauty by your mind, characterized in a deeper love aphorism, met not just in lucid dreams but in truths

could you let the reality get deformed because — loving me, it's your dream, and loving you, it's my fantasy with all my smiles and giggles, synchronized with any moments since you met me, also, with all my lack of experience in waving your thoughts paid with lots precious attentions in beauty sessions of your inseparable emotions, coupled at the ylang-ylang perfume of my soul, and assimilated with secret's fineness of a message hidden in the unique taste of a me‧ta‧xa, explored slowly, to not get scared the kiss that's been longing a lot for our lips to talk fluently in lust's dialect vibing into the all undivided parameter found in the mage of watermelon sugar, winded in the torrential love chemistry

I take a seat, I have a smoke, chirping, I hear a hummingbird its sapphire sound intense I feel... it fills my soul until the brim but I'm a dream, nobody knows it makes me cringe that I can't talk

a song is an oeuvre looking for your lips to get in your soul and in your spirit with lack of scrupulousness, incited by incontinence of feelings unwritten at the best examination but rather gallantly and nobly, using simplicity which isn't but my key

like a belle muse, schemed and lured with the quill-pen, ends and starts the dream painted with the guitar's echo panicking our eyes and lips with the physique of passion, happily snowed and wrapped with the flakes of our lust, me ⇌ you, fusing in one desire, créme de la créme, love

your G is kissing my soles moistening them intensely the sky changed my coiffure making my curls look like rain the wind, sprightly and leisurely gazes at me, astonished and then, you blow up a rainbow using the magic dust of fairies tattooing me with your love;  

because is today, and my words are mixed with flavors of your wild sky, stuffed with lovely tiny little things brought stealthily by a wind's breeze, spiffed in the scent of acacia flowers with threads of the grass, trod gently, enough to feel a poem's connection about me and you… lovely pretty boy who loves me entirely and whispers artfully, – keep falling in love with me right as I keep falling in love with you

you placed in my heart a climate wrought with intensive cadences which are erupting like a volcano from the engines of my fantasies and the routines of daily pleasures offered by words tangled in times, in the swirl of any existing emotion breathed by the soul's atmosphere just to may I think of you as you are, the petite unseen monster of longing possessed...[pour le reste de ma vie] in the volcano swing, that's foaming in my veins with an absolu' passion inquiring, who's by your side... still

subjugated in the choreography of your love, it feels as if I'd be the metaphor of your life, painted in the colors of your imagination, lubricated to experience one fine day, daily, in sensations found in any pretext, infused melodiously through a kiss, as fiercely as it is your lust for me, with your lips pressing mine while my arms are caught around your neck, and your fingers are knotted in my curly hair, clinging me more tightly to feel the talks from your mind about chapters that are ambrosial when aren't said out loud but only bestrewed in one sweet and tender touch of our instincts ────────🌹──────── (psst...) do you still dream, [you & me, as one]

somehow, you achieved to turn up the heat in my soul by unwinding an incredible universe, well lengthened tween mysterious galaxies, [magnificent and imbecilic], becoming so, a fire on, up in all atoms of my very being, induced to feel you simultaneously my moon and sun, posed on a nebulous sky for no one suitably to discern the accurate intimacy essence of your grandeur to me

I set the blue, [blue‧deep‧blue], to become my skillful pen. Then I improved the ink  adding in its sap, a drop  of my blood, embrocated with witty bouquets and the scent of my thoughts. I set the blue, — [deep‧blue], to become a charming quill. And the moon and the sun  added playful stardust and a boutonniere, enough for spreading any day's joy for you are the freak in me I set the blue, — [true-blue]. Its power is under my spell every day and every night with the taste of sin for some, with the taste of love for me, good enough to get explored

the perception, me, you, the disappearing action yet my disappearing action isn't your perception, but a speck of miraculous dust out of the universe called love, a hereditary molecule from my DNA combined with the essences of all good addictions in encoded information just to tingle your spine

don't you see I'm burning with desire to see you? .............................................................................. to identify you in any of my fantasy all the best artists used their emotions the seductive colors of words built you to be my fire fine structured musical compositions melt me in you in real life with accuracy exposed on your face sketched by memories the verses of stars are in your eyes the lips of my inexhaustible blue tales are devouring yours; [you don't oppose]

to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings

peony buds blossom in my thoughts their delicate scent emanate through your eyes the sun, like a virtual luv3r, spreads velvety petals all over sedated, my lips narrate in the dialect of one million stardust cosmic words paint the skin of your dream in the hue of my shade your mouth tastes any part of me using the moisture codex of love Alien codex by The Wandering Caretaker

Any of my written pages cover you with my blanket of stars set in music's transparent vocabulary, noble adapted to show me the way of loving you for both of us, and to get lost in the poetic experience of freedom and the pleasure dialect fermented in the mystery of what we want to hear, so delish translated by our lips that love to insult any part of our bodies with fiercely and gently kisses, till we get lost in sweet translation raised and sunken in vulnerable feels of our dreamt clichés. But if you don't know why are you looking for someone to love, then any page of mine is blank, exactly like your endless cloud, cambered by your doubts and indifference, so able to defame any soul, by provoking it to scour and pick up the pieces.

The fingertips, silky, are wandering on the keyboard whispering your name in the silhouettes of numerals. The chances handle with care the parade of desires while shape of letters on my lips is getting appetizing. The messages are murmuring with a version of fear in the seconds waited and spent at the other end… I'm calling. I'm whispering… Dream, do You hear me?

Is it chocolate, the sweetness mystery of chemistry found on the lips, tongue, and saliva, sneaking in that spontaneous perfection assimilated as if it is the taste of a certain kiss designed for prelude? Is it the water something ardently, which releases you from stress and slips with gently capacity in any place of the body to grab a camouflaged aroma of that sublime pleasure cited every single day? Is it any flower, the flavor of a breath intensely felt in the language of longing among tender colors and those suspires of a song activated by that innocent sin of being more attractive and more loved? Because, the chocolate, water, and flower, music and the silhouette of some dreams have vocalized together at once, — I've Got a Secret, — Good, Better, Best

He runs with me in the marathon of dreams. He needs me. He needs his little blue girl, – Me. I am the one I got him bad, — bad means good. With him, you don't live for tomorrow. Simply, you're wild, you're free at superlative, so better don't believe anybody's rumors, just have faith. Days aren't identically and also, never as easy as you incline to suppose. His love is inhuman. He's not loving like a fool. He loves you, beastly. When he's looking in your eyes, you're melting. His kiss makes cloth be dematerialized instantly. His sensuality is in my existence. He loves me.

I can't be face to face with you, — and yet, I plunged with aplomb into the starry desires of the fantasy, letting myself be pigmented by rays of the sun and mystical symptoms of the moon, using the pen of your soul, to take daily your philosophy's shape, chic sketched out, according to your art of loving, emitted sensually through a daring posture of your scent, tamed with sweetened kisses, through all my senses... I can't be face to face with you, — and yet, inventive, I blindfolded your moon with my sunshine. I whispered to it, you'll find me. Subtle you did it. You found Me.

Orchestrated by airy clouds, the dawn is chirping with soothing caresses on my yearning's fantasy. My eyes are wide open, and yet I didn't wake still. What spell you used, what you put on me, or why, or when you did it, has no point to ask‥ Not at all. Under a velvety mask, everybody wants to be you, but you're not everybody's. You have my mystery. You've got the skill. Besides that, you're in control. Santa on the cell phone, bodied in my thrill, is you. You're all I need... since all I need isn't just love...

Like a child of the Moon, I'm zigzagging myself in a culture that you share every day, framed in a square, so attentively and so devoutly, and so visible everywhere any way the wind blows. It makes me feel as if I got you in any thought of mine, wearing proudly the mark of your love, smoothly and impulsively, mused for me by you.

Shhh… This is a privy conversation. A mysterious and pretty please kind. One between tender Moon and Sun. It happens somewhere far, far away in a bookstore of the galaxy, where the spoken language has the accent of their passion perfect symmetrically with the shapes made by scars of love and of their dominant longing. Carnal. This is a privy conversation. Shhh… It's not for watching it, but feel it...

the climate of my thoughts it's consumed into a kiss soft, long, wild, heavenly my mind invokes you with all arguments of lust thirsted as an empty pen your silhouette is contoured by my eyes, using their color attired in the outfit of love my breath is modulated with all whispers of your touches mysterious felt on my body you, sculptor of my thoughts, the climate you set in me

[we are...] words hugged in a soft tenderly sound of the calmness of an extraterrestrial blue with the perfume of an unheard flower acting in the color of a rosaline smile contaminated by love and mutilated in the garden of your dreams and mine, where it began, where it all begins, daily, for repeating the most powerful sentence articulated with eight letters of the alphabet constructed patiently by you in me, to feel you in my atom and molecule, — [an infinite playlist]

I'm not drunk. You know it so well. You scanned me. Every single night and every single day, — expected. You strangled every single dream, shutting me up... — clenched... — in the tricky mission of memories. I'm not hungry. You know it so well. You scanned me. With your lungs. Breathing me entirely. Abandoned amid playground love, anointed with all your lust, — in my venus absolute. Imprints of your lips are on me. Fixed.

Loving you is so simple, — nothing complicated... It's the artwork of the sky, painted by sinful thoughts into marveled sensations offered by hope's degrees which spring up instantly from there, till there... from so too late to, so too early, with your head in the clouds guided by words written and sealed by letters full of keys

through mystic labyrinth of words that briskly fly amid the shadows, it whispers love, togged in my suit, [hold-on, just-breathe, I'll-be-there] i'll be in the lucid psyche's essence led by unspeakable parlance, to feel composed as you were born surrounded by the scent of stars stars are infused in colors of the day, well propelled in your cozy gravity, while deep transitions of the fantasy lop about, in allusive phraseology…

Did we taste too much out of too little of what we offered to us by chance, or just too little remained out of too much when both of us, together, were piloting our demented love through supernatural? Questions many, come and's going out, but answers will be found, exactly when the nightfall marks the rendezvous with the first puff of dew, while the day's light comes to face night, when it's young still.

[ Always ], it is too late, or it's too early just to be loved, exactly as you love… time never seems enough to offer you the opportunity of meeting one who could unfrenglishlytheworld where you have caught. [ Therefore ], you win by losing your mind mixing the pain and joy until remains nothing you've got, just irritating thoughts, to the forgetfulness to give... — the love, one which  let you  never to forget of me

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.

Bathed in the hug of your sun pampered by romped waves kissed on my lips by your stars in the existence of my dream wars of any thought get banal. .................................. In your angelic spirit, — I am an altar, — a mystery sculpted with your smile, with your gaze and your voice stuck in gravity of a delicate realm l'hawaïenne

I dreamt we got lost in a kiss. A pure psychedelic kiss inundated with the essence of our passion metamorphosed and positioned by the universe for our love to remain allocated in time as the best definition in all metaphors readable, sung and outstandingly watchable by everyone which K eep O n K eeping O n. I dreamt that dream got fulfilled.

I lit a cigarette continuing the game with memories of your untamed dreams when you've been for me the beggar and the king in my bed condemned at holy happiness in the empire of fantasy rising my body wanted in the sonnet of love, — ménage à quatre, the mistress of our match

a dream has woken up my dream to say that's dreaming about me a dream has woken up my dream where I'm dreaming I'm waking up and your lips are delighting my lips while your lust scans my bitings your eyes waving gleam in my eyes others to see in 'em who I am to you a dream that's love to me, it happens now…it is my treasure, my talisman