Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

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

till I finalize my hello, you're at home, while some didn't leave yet like an empirical kind, wind down, and look, to convince yourself in the shelter of the art you can phrase dégagé, [I long to feel your love]