right now, you breathe again the words of my free time, — you know what I want... — you know like I know nobody's so funny like me in your mind gifted to electrify your fantasies or to surprise your imagination, — somehow, you're addicted to me, I'm an indispensable mad feeling in your memories, in your deeds, I'm deeply in you, not a name, — not a number but hours of stories never negated but only accessed

what to do if or when some aim you with implicit words and feelings, as if you're an eccentric color adopted out of blue as an antithesis of a bad woman… so different from what you're being considered but schooled to figure out one's lies what to do as long as you've been designed to be better than any best or smarter than any smartest or much beautifier than any beautiful or sophisticated, passionate, gentle, courageous or creative or to dare to be happier… than yesterday what to do if each beam of the sun is playful in your hair and the sky's color shines in your eyes, and you're scented with love, while the universe's vibration brings to light your smile, your hopes what to do if you show yourself to all but nobody wants to see you as you are [it cried out, the sky… watching me]

in which of your positions, I'm a disaster or a miracle… which of my hemisphere grows your pulse… 🫦 does it  make you react as if I'm bad for you, baby… so bad that only your lungs are able to remind you… reminds you, you love much to breathe my atmosphere

i'm contemplating, (with my sight on your sight...) at an absent hour when we chose to just relax a while i'm saluting your thoughts lost through a certain sea that's containing my dreams (so interested in you) i reconstruct an analogy about how I act, how you react when we'll meet; whose smile will put us under the rug...

every side of mine, it's your treasure map cryptographed well by my soul and mind there, without any hesitation, your temper decided to keep me hidden like an altar subtle, my caprices, in your wildish blood transfused, swim constantly inconstantly even if, each side of yours with daily tales spies the maps gifted with my luring smile

pleasant emotions flood spontaneously like a dandelion in the spring hungered of lips on soft lips, so good... — so-so, again as much real as the unreal composing a mood, painted, sung, dreamt, and spoken in contagious gods' language and the spirit of goddesses to flourish inside you an afternoon experiment; ‧‧‧ then another, and another, and I, clearly, have chosen to be a flashback, — you addicted