Why should this love song have to rhyme? We’re not slaves to the rhythm; we break chains from the rhythm. Sweet in our groove and the taste of the mood is de- lect-a-ble. Why should this love song need a beat? We don’t need a drum when our hearts give good thump, keeping in time […]Read more "– new love song –"
The days of keeping my mouth shut towards society for fear of rejection have perished. Now, it’s all about keeping my mouth shut towards society for a conservation of energy. Have you not heard? Reticence is still the new black… but with a delicious twist. From New York to Paris to Milan, protecting auras is […]Read more "– a change in reticence –"
Burn slow babe… may we simmer for a little while? Con- trol babe… impulse we should keep on mild, for once I set a kitchen all aflame, be- fore I even knew your delicious name, just a dumb chef eager to chop it up, dice it up, cook it up, all that tasty stuff. Burn […]Read more "– burn slow –"
I am going to exhale with conviction – not for all of you, or even for any of you. This words are a direct face-to-face, a conversation better discussed the night before the first day of kindergarten, better late than never, as I take another step towards the maze’s exit. I will respect I more […]Read more "– man of my word –"
If only one could send forgiveness via overnight express, classify it as first class or priority shipping, no need for tracking, no need for an insurance fee. Instead, there are those whose puddles you cannot rise above, who ignite a storm of frost from your eyes, whose mail you’d “accidentally” lose if asked to hand […]Read more "– find it in your heart –"
Summertime beach bods bouncing pectorals and chiseled abdominals preacher labels them abominable my headache over aching loins mistaken for an aching heart the heat has risen like the Savior save me from this heatwave on the boardwalk make their muscles boring and uninviting unbearable is the lust unforgettable is the flesh what flesh is this […]Read more "– here comes torture –"
If my sole purpose was to make money and die in my homeland, I would have still embodied a reckoning out of rebellion, a destruction using goofy body movements, goofier logic, and the nerve to seek something more as my weaponry. Destiny cannot be assassinated, and it cannot be locked in the tower to rot. […]Read more "– судьба –"