Oxygen you.

enraptured!

joy-fully

from your behalf : generousness, concerning. kindfully.

from mine : optimism. bliss-taker.

as in one.
core => shared.
intuiton : deflowered, working at its best.

looking forward to
and never looking back.

hydrangeas in cultivation.

a prayer packed in the midst of us.

give forth.

provide, would you?


I would
truly

swim

in molten lava, for you.



- - - - - - - - - - - - -

untitled

" I despise pineapples
and
I'm keen on broccoli "

I thought.

-

I'll go with option "b"

A void, yet to melt.

a void
evoked, from the inside,
outwards.

in struggle not to collapse
softer breeze, pieces linger.
bad, black, unpure blood being poured over into it

redefining one's self
allegedly to seek the feeling,,,,,
the ownership being yours-to-take

invading;wading

to get to
divert the road, adjusting to one's need. selfishness at its best.
once more
in an opposite direction.
each gesture, saved for later.
indexing every part of them. lusting.

raising from the surface only to provide a sign,
explicitly.
no deductions
but in the inner part : intuition.

detach from it.

and yet, it surpasses any from of logical explanation, comprehension.
where is the line?

flakes of snow shattered and fired impulsively
from this mouth.
to the other.

adhered from the moment contact is made.
forcing him
to render the answer.

in this case : the opposites are distant
the weakness shows
the printers print from the heart, that of unethical pleasure.
the assembler assembles with patience. each piece.
foremeanted. tormented.
Boundary/there's no such word.
I'm


a martyr,
for you.



soo,nest and not exp,ecting
in a cycl,e
improving the welfare of the creature.
the well-raise,d one.
the naive,,,heavy-handed one.

the finest moment : vowels are unprecise - and weakly shot from the upper part of him.
abbreviating, not caring.
reading chapter by chapter, carefully
for he is being watched.

the creature : after kneeled
trust-worthy even from the start-
begging. cornered
for indefinite time.

self-sufficient up to the point in which the void started.


I would starve for you.

Yield inversion

Configured in such a way that thou does neither feel nor crave.

Caress in bloom, device in sleeve.

Submitting the riddle.
Clipping wires.
Twisting nuts.
Consulting, when in doubt.
Enduring (as possible) the blatant sound of metal cutting.

Summoning back the roots.
Somehow.

The task : imposed, as it is.

Set to the transmitter,
who is in charge of delivering the message to thee. Wading.
Seeking the final and most important element.

A warm welcome, from the incidental dwellers, towards the guest.

Eventually, it is generously given to thee, by them.

As moss in rusty pipelines.
It stubbornly re-growths : over and over.

Unbiased to what thou were told, in a beginning,
reviewing the logical aspect of the undertaking,
thou return, muddy-feeted,

And the scientist joyfully welcomes thee.

The most effective acantha-like marrow spurs on thy back.
Gratitude goes to thyself.

A tale of courage and awakening

The tale is strictly based on two-legged beings.

Stepping into the unknown, she clumsily started walking uphill,
Her bare feet dirtying-up with the muddy, slippery grounds below.
And each time, the ground got more watery. She was ankle-deep by now.

Her dress and hair were wet, because it had rained where she came from, and they still had not dried.
Blame the gloomy, cloudy atmosphere of this new place.

She finally got to the end of the hill, and she was looking downwards, at the valley, when she suddenly realized she hadn't brought the inviting-card with herself.

These people, they are quite superfluous, so the card was definitely a must.

She, with a saddened look on her face, turned around, and started running downhill.
She fell, and an old, little man came to her rescue.

She told the story to the man, and the man offered her some help.
He gave her a torn-up map, really ancient, and he said that, if she helped him find the treasure the map revealed,
he would lend her his card. He was invited to this banquet, and yet, he wasn't the banquet-kind-of-man.

She agreed, and so the quest started.

She went to the lake, but the birds had already set off.
Nevertheless, the enchanting, luring sounds awaited her by the woods.
She followed, but there was nothing there.

According to the map, the following step was to meet a troubador (supposedly delivering some sermon) at the mound located near the woods.
She found him, and the troubador adviced her to go to a pit located inside the woods, in the
most dangerous part of it.
She was up to the challenge, and as she left, she decided to ask the man one more question,
and as she returned, to her surprise, the man was substituted by an old, dusty scarecrow, about to break.

She realized everything was a hoax, and this little man was up to something.

She did not know what to do, but her intuition guided her through the woods, and she finally got to the core of it.
She saw the pit, and the little man standing by it.
The little man morphed into a wizard.


The man coldly explained.

But, she wasn't focused. She had just noticed something shine on the far left area of the pit.
She ran, and she grabbed a pair of goggles laying on some rocks.
She put on the goggles, and she boggled as she saw the reality of the place.
She also saw who this fake-wizard really was.

Overwhelmed, she quickly grabbed the sword and the armour and she quickly dumped them into the pit, abolishing every trace of meanness that lingered in the place.
The -as from now to be called- "wizard"
weakly tackled her (as if he lacked of any form of magical power), and yet, she overcame him, by furiously raging against him, and frantically throwing him into the pit.

She ran towards the town, looking forward to showing people what this place was all about.

The expectations would syncopate with the misfortunes of the mistress.

Proned downwards

Proned downwards,
I slide
in-the-form-of-a-snail.

With
the trace
far behind.

On-guard.

Whatever happened to the benefit?

Still.

And , then
salt is poured
All-over-me.
I cringe. I curl. I coil.

Who-would-have-known?

Forlorn I

Within the past few days, she decided it would be nice of him to actually care.

She moved with caution, her silky dress flowed and gently touched every corner, every angle.

She had made up her mind, and thought this was the proper time to sort things out;
or, at the very least, to finally take action. Once and for all.


She wanted
him
to notice
her



It was bound to happen.
And yet, it was never meant to be this way.

Within the course of an hour or so, the woman will disappear.

Not for much, though. She has planned every single move. Every action has been revisited and reviewed.

Nothing could go wrong,
and yet : nothing went right.