It behaved as the young dove,
I started chasing elusive love,
It shielded its valuable trove,
I found it hidden in the cove,
It smelt so fresh like the clove,
I gave it a much needed shove,
It fumbled right into my glove.

Standing in line
I wait for her turn to hug me
My body stands but my soul falls
Arms extending to whatever it is I am
I feel a shell, cold, like a distant memory
Her hug was more dead than my grandmother lying in the casket

Butterfly Desires & Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells In Her Emerald Eyes,
Bleeding Perpetual Fire & Toxic Cries.

Lucid Screams Of Her Plastic Love,
Paper Towns & Serenity Above,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.

Postcards Of Her Estranged Serenity,
Diffusing Into Polaroids Across Infinity,
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity.

Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating Desecrations,

Digital Dreams & Fictional Desires,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal Wires,
Purple Streams Translating Fires.

Tunnel Visions Transmitting Reality,
Suicidal Trance & Static Eternity,
Molotov Solution Is Her Lighthouse Of Ecstasy.

- 04:19AM -