Imagine an enchanted;

Yes!

Clearing;

A flourishing verdant
evergreen grove,

Raining
oxygen-filled particles
of Wish Light

A vintage letter falls
from the elder oak boughs;

Floating to your feet

Sonorously you read,

"Breathe
In
Deep"

She stood at the edge of a deep rock
leashed to the side of the sea
with foam biting at her feet
and waves barking at her.

She breathes a salt stenched air
and watches its jaws open
only to see a sailor
rotting between its teeth.

She swallows air whole,
call it courage or stupidity
but she takes a step towards it.

Now the hound named
"Sea"
became full
once more.

Oceans and rivers of tears I have cried
I am the siren of my sorrow
Swimming deftly through my pride
No smiles to own or borrow

Where salt and sin settle deeply in
Old wounds reopened sting
Sharp reminders on my skin
Of what hurricanes will bring

Hollow bones
No feet to stand
Yet lacking feathers to fly
Not searching for shore or sand
Instead I seek the distant sky

The air above seldom touches my face
Except for in my sleepy head
And in my dreams I see no trace
Of monsters inhabiting my bed

Like breeze caressing in its
trap a feather grey in air’s
flight so have I
been caught
in un fulmine dei pensieri di
appena circa una dozzina
di minuti
fa.

And I have to most urgently
capture Me in this
flight and non-tormenting
air bubbles coming
out of my watery
&
treelike sight
by
breathing this moment
of realisation
gently
yet hard/strongly
while I’m at it,
at Shepherd’s meaning
of Treasure in
Coelho’s work cast
especially on me
& my antics of Now.

And that letter
here to be
shall be
lost
for a moment under
that pencil:
scribbling on sun-scorched
plane passing,
logophilia
and greater future to come
and
be
done.

For when you
finally
drink from a little bit
of Life itself in
you without any stimuli
foreign to you,
you’ll see that
It
is it that’s the most feverish
in what’s the best,
the sufficing binge.

I’m giving into
your hands this
redemption of mine till
I
AM,
for currently it
is the biggest truth
given to me
by
Allah.

I sense these Signs
as they find each other on Me,
like they make me insert
all the answers,
intentions,
with a hard semblance
and the durability
of the terrace wood
against my worked up skin,
in my lungs.

To where will my Own Legend
lead me?
There are certain
premonition
and in-depth
in this moment,
in the castle of the epilogue,
of the book,
in crystal blue,

in how all the world now
persists in my head
desiring to leave
a trace somewhere here
so as not to let go
of my hand
from its.

And the Sun
that parts almost at
dusk through
a hollow in the clouds
stormy-like
behind my back
seems to be winking, glance throwing,
of a foreboding,
of its presence,
waning,
on what will be able
to come.
And it’s gone.

And how Pueyo would say it:
“May no one deprive
me of living.”
I say it to all the pop culture,
and these false suns
“I’m not yours to take”
as much as I can.

And should we not listen
to understand
instead of
to reply?
Aren’t constant thoughts
that replying,
and pure being that
taking in (all the striving),
like when facing forest
in a
cold
prickling
air
to encounter?

Hold me like that,
that as I am,
in your hands
for a while.

since tizzops knows half of the world, there are
blue birds painting his name in the sky, formation
for the throne, lead her up, your queen
uniquely dressed in all-white, all guests fully covered in snow

everybody waited for that day, until tizzop & marissa, being in
a blossom-white garden happily said yes to each other
sparklingly white ravens, everything only this one color
the magical gift, like jeezy's magic city

marissa: come with me now, we're flying over continents

thousands of miles, first and tender kisses
and soldiers are firing into the air, under the
violins we are watching the world like drones
kings and emperors, in order to reward our people

i need me some bread and beans, proteinshakes
bodybuilding, this song fits into the first take
we are fate: tizzops & marissa, like vocals
and basslines, violins and piano

burner beats and our voices, all goes together
baby, come home with me, be at home with me
cause at home is the best and cosiest place
decorate my room, fill it up with blaze

give me your female touch, i am and remain an ox
when i spot you on a snowy path, as you're standing
in front of an ipod-white foal, babe, i stole that for you
like i'll be heisting mars, moon and venus, i become

calm and laid back, turn into what i will be and i am sure
that marissa got my back, and that she loves me
she is good, how i am enjoying this, we're like malibu
firing up waves on the rocks like cocktails

and the shiningly white swoosh of the ocean
is our carpet, and stars bet on our fate now, my babe

paved asphalt pass brimley and the 401 provincial highway
windows shy, hiding beneath mid door crevice
giving way for the combing wind
elvis's hairdue comes naturally at 120 km/hour
look in my rear view
her smile illuminates my world
radiates lumens past circuit driven tungsten (W)
corsets my heart into a reoriented rush of ecstatic cross spindled fibers
the joy of the bingo jackpot for the community center regular who plays their last card before going home
an "I 17" echoes through the air

but this card was misread, I 17 was a spot above the required
she was never in the backseat and she was doing us both a favor
just as the grocer who puts eggs at the top of the bag
her smile irradiated the room
her smile came straight from those high beams pleading for a head on collision

azides leaked though a break neck pillow
azides for my esophagus
leading to my sarcophagus

cigarette smell room
the scent of *** pounds the air
essence of journey