slips my words' soul on writings, too terrified not getting sickened, or as the preventive bodily cure in any random premise could it be ✳ in any random premise could it be is for honorin' myself for what i am, in everything i live, see, and feel... – like whoever tactful human does it ✳ if a tactful human does it nonnative, as me, who uses a wishful zeal's ink and the magic crayon which pivots dream's fire to which i belong, it's okay ✳ dream's fire to which i belong, it's okay to may have some fake or loud reason, to may soothe or invigorate, or alike... to be like an inviting dance or music ✳ like an inviting dance or music, i write today... (not as you know its meaning) but to explore again your kimosabè role, – my naif, do I run thru your nerves still‽

your love grafted my soul with surgical accuracy of a kiss enameled with palladium's gaze of your bon-ton mannerism how could i've been predicting i'm gonna lost in poems, with you in my mind... flying unseen while i will carrying... love's torch how could i've been identifying my love for you is a flaw, a sin... which didn't fit anymore on the skin... of your dreams... how could you've been framing how this love works... nobody knows... (nor you, nor i) how could we know how it oars

 ugh, you, – my incubus lover, i'm surrounded by ugly souls through their veins flows pus, unfurling up a mephitic smell their gazes suppurate dislike while their smiles are putrid thank god, my flower garden reveals perfume and colors and birds disperse their music, and your imps chase 'em away … ugh, you, the word of my word, sing to me... sing to my desires embrace, embrace my dreams, dreams credible and incredible travel, travel in all my missives chronicled to you by my future there, joviality bears my name, i'm the one who fulfills wishes there, the light of each shadow stimulates the shadow of light …  ugh, you, – my incubus lover, word of my word, – i call you