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******.
A symbol of denial, congeniality, and assurance of love;
the fate of maternity, motherhood, that is witnessed
and cherished from afar.
From a sacred little haven;
from a struggle of motherly defense.

O ******!
Temptations are to you never a bother,
in the tempests of lush dreams,
the draining of purity,
and veritable sensations.
Steadiness is your notion;
it barely leaves your mind
you may be deeply hurt
but never hurt,
you may be a stranger
but your grace is your power.

Truth that is unpardonable,
veraciousness at my simplest words,
clarity that is gleaming in your eye,
a token of pleasure but indestructible affection;
adorable as you are,
serenity is beyond question;
dreams are but inseparable from your docile life.
O ******, the sweetness and gentleness of thy eyes
are my irreplaceable silence,
my appraised soul,
and my most resolute
and irrepressible invocation.

O ******, one that is so rare a rose
Many as in the May-day dance are tainted;
marks of annoyance, omens of indulgence.
With hunger for nothing but moans;
unsober groans, and quickening breaths in paces of outward satisfaction;
intoxicated desires but unloving movements;
on the grounds for endless dancing;
there is the thirst for grips, the grossest of stateliness!
Voluptuous romance, perfidious touches, and
false-hearted toys!
In the wakeful dreams of which
I long for you, a handful of thy chastest kisses!
I pray for your hands, so delicate
as mine, how they shall fit into each other!
I long for your lips, your spotless, uncorrupted cheeks,
My demand is for your hands;
for sanity, and sincerest cordiality
Despite of my guilt and former unconsciousness
I shall amend my grief for you,
for you only,
for oureth perfect, unconquerable happiness,
and the union of our souls
in a day of holy matrimony.
The man I love is full of curiosity
He has a benign charm and ardour
His youthful soul is bright with splendor
He is far from madness and animosity

The man I love is nothing but distant
To him I am just a small yoke of childishness
I a servant who serves him a jar of friendliness
He a merchant, handsome precious but indignant

The man I love is not the one I met
He is the stem and root of my morning flower
Plump as a shade of the glade in a bower
Dainty as the evening dove's cozy net

The man I love has now been gone
Unreachable no matter how fast I could run
In his arms is a dame with endless beauty
Pleased as he is by her false murmurs of vivacity

The man I love is not within my sight
But he is still the one source of my gracious delight
In him only do I lose my thought and wildest daydreams
For him do I vow my love and the highest esteem.
In my dreams, your picture was intact: from your hair there was a reckless shine. Brightening my skin; as sweet and delicate as apple fruits. Sometimes I thought you were guiltless; a soulless devil who is no longer capable of deceit; you were wan, listless, and shy. You are my sin, my soul. The tip of my tongue could not help pronouncing your name; you were my the light of my life, fire of my *****. Flame of by bones, air to my breathlessness. My sole yearning, the only earnest hope that I long to come true. Relief of my pain. Cure for my loneliness. Sweetness in the midst of bitterness; breeze amidst the shards of eternal sunlight. You were wearing your favourite shirt, your lips were in ecstasy; as splendid as yesterday's evening candy. You were lonesome and yet as pure as a baby. I hath always dreamed of you that way, in some of the recent days; but I was indeed wrong. It was the silliest of dreams! I was deceived by your superficial gentleness! You are nothing but a creature of malevolence; you conquered my love and walked out on me; you do not deserve me! You are none but a demonic fault in my romance; a hassle, an insignificant, a vile mist of shadow that I ought to leave behind as an indignant trace of my past! I despise you, my love.
Can I be the one
to dig my nails into your flesh, gently
bite down, reaching to your soul
I wish to taste your skin and every scar held within
maybe, if you let me, my lips can heal them
I would kiss you relentlessly
even if to no avail
can I just be the one to try
I need to make you feel to make me heal
The Song Of Loneliness Whistles In The Breeze,
Soft And Gentle, Make It End Please,
The Broken Recored Of Misery Repeats Your Name,
Sadly This Record Is Stuck On The Needle,
A High Status Of Fame,
My DNA Entwined With That Of The Divine,
Yet I Am Cold And Alone,
Haunted By Ruthless Demons Nipping At My Nape,
I Sit By A Frigid Glassed Window,
Paned By My Tears Of Pain,
I'm Sick Of Awkward Conversation,
And Honestly I'm Terrified,
Because The Sound Of Your Rhythmic Breathing,
Becoming Closer,
Is Chilling To The Bone,
And I Can Already See Your Face In The Stands,
Because I'm So Broken,
And I Am Distraught,
Because I Can Already Hear The Sound Of,
The Music Of Misery
I want what I will never have and I have what I could never want.

I look in the mirror and see a man, or what the world says a man should be.
I see strong shoulders and I see eyes that are doing their best not to turn cold.

At times I see a stranger.
A ghost.
A figure that just wants freedom.
But what is freedom?
Is freedom giving up and letting the waves of others carry you away?
Is freedom constantly fighting to stay above water and getting funny looks in the street?
I ask the man in the mirror the same question and he just shakes his head and walks away.
A boy is left standing there.
He gently smiles.
If time is relative then why are we moving at all?
I look around
and to me we all seem to be standing still...
Frozen in our civic and social duties.
Like watching a game show,
Or buying a frozen pizza.
...dressing up to go to church.

We become frozen in these moments and they end up defining who we are instead of the other way around.

Maybe the world is in an event horizon and I am stuck outside watching everyone seem to move in no direction at all.
Yet I see myself as well.
Sitting completely still and becoming a mannequin...

I would say that we are moving towards a black hole,
******* the light and life out of us,
but that would be foolish.

Because we are the black hole.
We steal the life and desire.
Hopes and dreams
from ourselves and throw our souls away for a paycheck and death certificate.

If I could find the warehouse of man and stumble upon the assembly line, I would shoot the foreman and break the machine.

Then

I

would

burn

that

building

to

the






ground...
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