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Zha Zhap Apr 2018
Give me just two of your fingers, it is more frisky;
When excited why acting out platonic.
Skin me;
No need to falsify.
Your small hands hold an ocean, then tide me;
Send more white horses to step on my rocky heart;
Of course, sunk already.
Not a submerged foreign object;
Down there I am a reef;
Living for eons, heartily.

You are dear as nature.
I am thirsty, near which slippery cliff is your river.

In the ocean of your hands;
I am fished.

As time passes by, I am more aware of you;
I feel the ocean is not a piece of you;
It is you.
It is like you are offering yourself.

Why is it pellucid?
I can see miles away;
Miles away a dissolving wine.

Your mother calls you;
A crystal big cat emerges from your ocean.
A friend calls you;
You shut your eyes.
Noone comes around.

I notice that I am going to hear a sound;
I hear it, coming from far-flung;
Makes you more chaotic.
Vortical eyes.

Your face is too hot;
It starts to boil;
Rivers come out of your eyes and mouth;
Pouring into your ocean.
No overflow.

What do you represent?
What if you are an atypical?
What do you remind me of?
A bare white-bluish waterfall who offers everything has got?

You have mentioned me in your genome, with a deep shade.
Unclad is an old-hat, we should reveal what we have inside;
By playing with locks.
Suggest me, l will romance you.
Your touch reminds me of the untold.

You freeze, no flow, like it was in the cards.
Your scent, strange.
I should leave to buy.
I hover around you.
My vulnerable bare;
It is up to me to protect you.
I should leave to buy a huge opaque.
I couldn't find my clothing and shoes;
Can I wear yours? Is it weird?

I hear from neighbouring flat, someone crying in bath.

You start to tilt and smudge like you were a design on a rug;
I fold it;
Put it in a suitcase;
And leave to exit.
Zha Zhap Mar 2018
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant, tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.

Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.

A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one redish gore, autopsying the memories.

Unjust? Carnivore brutality?

Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.
Kiss, literally;
Love, figuratively.
Zha Zhap Mar 2018
Within there is a crying canis
Pretending it is a cry wolf
Not sufficient to deliver
Playinɡ down the mirror
For all that, insane to rock, rock the rattling being
Sometimes to hug
A hug for flower.

— The End —