studying in a library on a rainy day

at times, as a writer, you're screwed 
if your words ramble without climax,
paralyzed into a marginal symptom
‧
the main characteristic of your spirit
corresponds to a muse whose tariff is
billed in polyandry or polygamy's art
‧
for you know, y'know so bloody well,
art never reacts to monogamy's coin,
and chic words' silhouette, cultivates

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πŸ“–πŸ€πŸŒΏ

beautiful world

i am not humble and kind, at all, — why do you think i ported my sky on your eyes' translucent membrane ‽ ‧ to force you to (dream), (dream), (dream)… ‧‧‧ beautiful memories have the skill to bandage up your soul's tegument , enough to see the microscopic light hidden ineptly at your mind's edge… ‧ (i'm one-of-a-kind beautiful and one-of-a-kind memory) ‧ (macroscopically) ‧‧‧ can you filter through a rusty sieve the best days out of a week…(‽) (i'm curious to see the look on your smile while you try doing it…), (doing the effort to groove me in your sureness) ‧‧‧ with the serenity of the sea , fix your eyes on my eyes captivated by your fantasies (hmm, — do you still cherish what you see…) ‧‧‧ your diabolic mind created a journey, — journey pushes someone else's thoughts to some possible destinations for healing the deceitful promises of tomorrow to force you to ( wake up), (wake up), (wake up) ‧ (in my beautiful world) ‧‧‧ the production line of me, as a drea...
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tell me something beautiful, she said, — (∂ + m) ψ

tell me something beautiful, she said, and he responded… — (∂ + m) ψ ✴ «In science, you want to say something nobody knew before in words that everyone can understand. In poetry, you're bound to say something everybody knows already in words that nobody can understand» ✴ (∂ + m) ψ   « If two systems interact with each other for a certain period of time and  then get separated, this can no longer be described as two separate systems. Somehow they become a single system. In other words, what happens to one of them continues to have impacts on the other. They're influenced by each other instantly, no matter how far apart they are... distant miles or light-years.»
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give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain

Under the influence of the moon's breeze, music's witchery is touching me and metamorphose me in the whispers of stars, properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableaux vivant out of your preferred color palette in the abstract, as if we're meant to be metaphysical as one. Under the influence of the moon's breeze, your incantations appears organized, whenever, wherever, and in any way ever, inciting me to add additional loves' names to your love for me. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked dream's power to lure you inside my unpredictability to mention your name, – ( give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain ).
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i wonder

i wonder what agitates me like that… [should be your thought, – probably] probably to caress you in whispers, inked charming by my soul's scripts scripts that accelerate your cadence at the superior state of awakening awakening, gamed with varied visions as if you'd love me‥ as if i'd love you [...too] — [...too]
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suddenly

— Hey, what are you doing here? — I'm waiting for you. — How did you know I'm gonna come now? — I didn't know. I took a pew and said to myself, (I'll count up to ten; if it doesn't come, I'm leaving, but what to see, suddenly you're here...). — And up to what number did you get? — That was barely on my mind, but till today... ...meaning — ToDreamAboutYou in a fluid form.
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please

the drama of this world are the imbecile people flow infinite rivers of ink about them for nothing evilest, it's for they have most contagious malady their affection is named fame, – power, – money in their hypocrisy, we are classed as abject caprices their pervert style gave us even a social status kind we scream we're human, they see just animals in us life got abbreviated to be an absenting way to think robotized, we wake, we eat, we percolate, we go to work we do kids and educate 'em that life is hard, it's agony everything that's beautiful we implemented, calling it …poetry yet, accompanied by a tune is tagged to please a dream
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and you, my love

Today everything seems to be nicer. Even I seem to look much more beautiful. I woke up with the mad urge for bonbon, chocolate with almonds, and berry syrup. I've perfumed my hair with peonies. I dropped the sweetness of rose on my lips, and I took the happiness in my soul. Today, life invited me to dance, and I lay in while I began to hum: (...and you, my love)
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Say

I feel you as if you infiltrated my veins... I feel you as if you're walking like a master through my senses... Go ahead and walk. It's your f|_|©king right. I belong to you, Love. I'm just saying what I have to... — Say.
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