The universe is immeasurable, we are merely infinitesimal machinery keeping pace, as churning cogs tick wildly transmitting within allotted time, attempting heartbeats' cohesion clocking our own honed destinations, accumulating illusions 'tween mass waiting to return as a speck of dust in the never-ending saga of inexhaustible collectives amidst systematically creative contrivances
Paused on the veranda for a poetic tête-à-tête, we sipped vintage wine and spoke of days gone hither when we were much greener, tripping the nimbly light and guzzling cheap beer into the wee hours of night's obscurity, wiser and older, yet still imagining one day we'll conquer the world, resigned to this present moment we comfortably reminisce, midst the effervescent bubbly of reality
The moon speaks with its silver tongue, lighting a path through your bedroom window, reflecting the contours of your beauty, as its words of silver poetically tickle your dreams.
He's that guy that slays you, always charming, ready & eager to lend a helping hand, a garish smile tucked in his hip pocket -- he's your friendly next door neighbor, the quintessential serial killer