I step inside with a hypothetical situation that turns in my favor every time. I want to descend but I don’t want to realize the preternatural feel that is going to delay my words for sometime or maybe forever. I look at the body, watching dreams at dawn. It is excited and tempting enough to take a gulp and watch over and over till it strikes my mind that I am not meant to perform an action that might smudge the paintings to a different genre. I am not allowed to master your mind, but I can touch you, the way you want a body to do it. That is unpleasant in many ways, because it holds an entity that might build your bizarre identity which you can’t get used to. The angles and the attire complement each other, but the peak of my aspirations is what makes me lose my mind. The curling interface which desires for the passion and what my buds require is peeking through the dreams of my master. The realm of glory that needs a twitch of realization and a gateway to your desires, needs a little touch that runs down your parts. Your mask is changing and fading away, and losing itself in my colors. The smell of honor and our beliefs is our insignia. What I want is a smile that cheers me up and doesn’t make me regret my decisions, well, our decisions which were taken in complete sanity.
Watching you being in this world and remembering me makes me turn this hypothetical situation into reality not by approaching with axioms and ego. Truth is still used to describe the parties that stay in you, even though it is an obsolete option.
I remember when you made me lost somewhere even when I had the direction clear in my mind.