Yet I always do, something exaggeratedly true; meant for you
tighten my heart and avert my gaze
cease to think for that fraction of a phase that comes and goes
where I hold my soul true
finishing line is a blur
It disappears, for I fall off my course
into a bed of delicious rotten fruits
that are sinful sweet
they disintegrate your soul
under a fan, near a window, in a rocky yellow greenish jungle
take a tumble
like jack & Jill would never know
satin thick coat of humble
tattered and torn dressed in shambles
sprinting away on a concrete road
that looks molten from afar
like a shimmering pool of water
a damn fine mirage
or an oasis of wishes that came true in a genie lamp
wade into an unreal pond
of liquid phantasm
optical illusion of the universe
a magic
a volcano of warmth
that chars your skin
makes you believe
it's a delicious sun tan.
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