some think that a part of me disturbed you while in reality, you designed this diabolism, anything to appear as if we left magic gone, as if it was nothing anymore, [to explore...] let it be, let them think whatever they want, important is that our love feels like a Sunday

You love me so much that even your dream it dreams of me fictionalizing a minor acute of your philosophy pampered paradoxically with the structural capacity of your longings while the art of November rain with desires

Can you talk without having any clue about the one who supposed to listen to you passionately and conclusively? Doesn't it feel as if your voice puts in difficulty the brain? All you want is to read the magic of the stars, yet to do it, isn't essential to gaze into the eyes of the one who's loved? I found wondering myself, while tastily, I imagined the lips of this enigmatic who's gazing at what wants to hear while without getting pressed, experiences all the songs' words. It's a vibe as if it reads me, wanting to identify, on which side of the syllables, I sleep, and which word must be breathed. That one is dulcifying itself with poetic thrills ruled at a pub, on a roof somewhere known as blue café... a yAyAyA realm, comparable to milky-way. That one I wish I know what's like.

I woke up with the intention of touching you with some syllabled sounds, [caterwauling...] feel them inside your deepest hidden giggle; there I am one with the universe of yours... in those inner, our love is gonna live forever like a whoopie cat in its own meandering

« All night I have slept with you next to the sea, on the island. Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep, between fire and water. Perhaps very late our dreams joined at the top or at the bottom, up above, like branches moved by a common wind, down below, like red roots that touch. Perhaps your dream drifted from mine and through the dark sea was seeking me as before, when you did not yet exist, when without sighting you I sailed by your side, and your eyes sought what now - bread, wine, love, and anger - I heap upon you because you are the cup that was waiting for the gifts of my life. I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us. I have slept with you and on waking, your mouth, come from your dream, gave me a taste of earth, of seawater, of seaweed, of the depths of your life, and I received your kiss mois

« You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who was lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment. All the immense images in me— the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected turns in the path, and those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of the gods— all rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me. You, Beloved, who is all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house, — and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,— you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening... »

J’essaie d’imaginer quel genre de saveur I try to imagine what kind of flavor pourrait avoir tes pensées maintenant could have your thoughts now et combien de joie cela t’apporte-t-il? and how much joy does it bring to you? Sont-ils trainants de te toucher doucement, Are they touching you gently... [vaguement؟?] [je me demande moi-même...] [vaguely؟?] [I wonder myself...] Sont-ils comme un joaillier expérimenté? Could be like an experienced jeweler? Gère-t-il à te dessiner un sourire Does it manage to draw you a smile tandis qu’à l’intérieur de toi ça fait d'éclatés while inside you it makes burst avec l’éclat de mon amour, planifiée dans with the brilliance of my love planed in les mots bleus, — ton bleu, — my wave

huge scenic background of stars, of blue air, of art created by your universe in my galaxy, for the desire of action, of a delighting touch full of optimism, brightly colored with the hue of happiness for the promises achieved by us each day and night, when it was allowed to reshape our reality, and where nor even the gods didn't find it necessary to intervene, on the contrary, built many other new realms, endlessly in our fantasies to go on get in there

if in you I am the blood your vein, my voyage is of loving you at absolute unshamed with diligence music… story… poetry, any text… it's a pretext double vision fantasy in a deep blue galaxy a mirage in beauty numbed out of blue you're activated, too so within so without too it invites... to do the do

« I don’t wake up in the morning and say, wow I've got a great idea for a story. But I sit down, and I figure well, let’s see. I think people are interested in anything that’s a little bigger than life, and that’s colorful; and – you know, what they like? They like fairy tales for grown-ups. Singing a song, playing sports – anything that entertains; that takes people away from their own problems, it's good. There is only one who is all-powerful, and his greatest weapon is love. »  Catch Me Now I'm Falling

magnetic phenom are our silhouettes painted in dreams and divine poetries sublime… aporetic to make you and make me wonder, are you for real or just a foreign love

Have you decided on the menu, alien darling? I have the algorithm of certain timeless stars cocooned in warm and velvety sensations of a careless whisper in an unedited garnish, anointed with words' flavors, spiced smoochy in writing's realm, dipped through each slice of a memory dated by you, me, and deep one

I saw you at the periphery of an absentmindedly hour. Perceiving that, I've decided for good to not want you anymore in my mind at the borderline of another hour. I could give you thousands of minutes of reasons why but I preferred to let words get trundle ridiculous among the air of love where it's been said daily a tale. After all, in the realm of imagination, everyone can be replaced exactly as is replaced an image from a gallery, an address from a city, or a song with another one….

the tangible painting works of my soul painted you and doodled you without loaning palettes and nuances from somebody else touchy-feely infusions of your soul enriched me to enrich you even more with murmurs of light beads out of   music•art•poetry, — a ménage à trois living on love

(allow me), muffled me seductively, your sun rays that possessed my dawn, lending me the scent of your thoughts, narrated with gleaming attributes, suited to kiss the night in the toys factory from your fantasist mind, engraved and smooched for me, the only one, with willing velvety essences and with all dreams on it

if you don't know how to bite,  do not bark...  that's what it says on the tin

while you watch what I do, the entire cosmos vibrates in the rhythm of my mood; like an alluring tiny monster, my smile never secrets yours; [hates to feel you neglected]

Oh, my dear Lord, — I feel as if I'd spun myself around you so many times that even you got dizzy in your high ego with the princely attitudes scattered everywhere in your hellish trying you do you me with your voodoo qualified in endurance and absurdity to devour me like you move with it in it

my emotion got been written at the morning coffee with the ink of dream that dreams me… the influence of mine with yours spun up to the sky for blooming in a color's custody full of desires… our lust made us confess again, how wildly about we're to each other… then… everything around us smiled

take off your clothes, I wanna talk with you in the noble language of music and poetry made for you under the ritual of the muses disposed into the rays of the moon and sun to love you to love me all around the world using musicians' and poets' extravagance

moonlight, intelligent stars and a magic low incantation, using the art of dreams divided at 13 for me and you to be protected in those uncertain sentiments when love goes stumbling or is replaced by the devil you know, acting rough to our lust for life