i love... without disturbing you, i love... facile... in music's secrecy, thinking myself, — (maybe it's your pleasure of being loved.... like this...) [a bizarre dream that sways into my astral skepticism] ‣‣‣ i love... surrounded by dreamers, i love... through the late bloomers' field, thinking myself, — (but if you are... a fragile kind, who did itself a lair... into my mind...) [as if it's there, your medication, and your dose, my constellation] ‣‣‣ i love... without to beg attention, i love... into my thought's thought side, thinking myself, — (but 'cause you're dreaming, you'll accuse some nonchalantly aberrations...) [whose medication is in whose pleasure, whose skepticism is in whose dose...]‽