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Marco Buschini Nov 2016
The pulsating, pearl moon
Harbours the last remnants of romance,
Scintillating, in the valourous sky,
As I surrender to call upon her spirit
To bring her back to me.
I longingly strip, craving the vivacity of her caress.
Irresistible, I would yield to the perpetual
Power of her touch.
Immersed in the shadowy depths,
Rippling serenities of thought.
I glimpse at her reflective soul,
Shimmering upon the ravenous river,
Emanating from the stars
In all their graceful radiance.
Her heart illuminates
The benevolent evening.
The breath of inevitability
Stings my skin, as I dress,
Firing my arrows of impatience
Disconsolately, into the shivering azure,
Hoping for a way
To penetrate her very being.
Invocation Aug 2014
Little soul - are you satisfied?
She's crying over him,
He's leaving because of her,
  You're trying to keep him here,
    And he's struggling to breathe and nobody likes to face the truth
And I should have answered the call
and I should have
Little soul little soul you're going too far
He isn't yours to sweep into the pond

Your eyes cannot see into the correct situation's panacea
evening glow, oh! so pure and whole
aeration of the dust-packed pores inside
Little soul, Little soul - no.
Don't go there
Don't wander into -
I saw you open the package before the allotted date
styropeanuts, strewn cross't wooden paneled flooring
white infinity symbols, floating in rusty red blood
I told you the truth would set you free
And I warned you what it would do
Little soul.
Little soul.
Good riddance to what little innocence remained after the last battle
All survivors have fled
The city remains, rubble standing as relatively tall
as mountains feel

— The End —