he loves to swim and play, inside my bowl, [a chic crepuscular district i built for him] he did himself a petite dream... Livestream to prove [he's best expert in hide-and-seek] he has no seasons... [eats one time per day], i never saw him sleep, not heard him speak he has a stylish part of giving kisses, subtle, he's happy... [nobody's prettier than him...]

don't you turn your back at once just because, i crayoned my poetry with my lips, with my teeth, with my tongue, moistened in my mentholated saliva... but better venture yourself into it bringing up all your lovely emotions letting light in…

it was the day I forgot my phone, [premeditated], at a location on the rim's seafront, exactly as I plotted, meticulously, with my silences, with my hopes,  but with not my vows, only to trap you in my hook; like a sea dog lured in sirens' song, [you came…], you came and obeyed to my little things wrapped into savaged scents, — [since then]

if it'd been to sing you a song it would spring up in your pen, the furrows of elegant caresses that'll get me to slip smoothly at the lodge of your heart, just to get me nested in it... untold if it'd been to sing you a song it would roll thru a radio station lost somewhere but still able to keep our fragile connection exact as were our ideas of fun, like Louis & Thelma hazarded if it'd been to sing you a song... it'd be one, as we have been... deep and blue, and bizarrely, moony and sunny, and nomad dear and psycho... and lifelike, as a sigh thru a story, [hearty]