** the shadow morn auroras of insomniac nights are kinda psychedelic.
// Ascian Elio
By articulating all the imbued twilight nuances of the Stygian crypt; the mighty soul of night 've ribbed with the elan pliancy of Elysian as a pyromantic deesis of enkindled aesthetic aureole of cosmopoietic niran arryn, at the wee hours of first blush canvassing the buoyancy of the blue.
**we're unconsciously persistently learning the life, to become conscious of ourselves.
// Apprendre à vivre
I'm learning to sparge the life's parched parnassian piquancies. Forby, proliferating the parables of wilted impulses as poesy, beneath the colonnades of benign benevolence of allegorical crack of dawns.
**Not just endure to end the suffering/pain but embrace it as if empathizing a soul in self-love.
// Câlin de compassion
What is to end? The shadow perorations of yore we are dreading about, or our pretence of suffering that is dwelling in our nucleus vitalizing as a pain body in between the warmth spaces of our breaths, or our endurance to the habituation of melancholia as a habitation.
But why is to end aught striving to exist as in we are thriving through life, when we certitude that everything innate is energy that can neither be depicted nor devastated.
Okeydoke, rather to exhaust in trying to end the inherence of its subsistence we can metamorphose its means to the quotient of our gusto; not just by enduring the suffering of pain or vain or of any anon but by embracing its sentinent of quidit as if we are empathizing a soul in 'amour-propre'.
Ambrosial rune of solitude lustre that I’m imbibing from the profound crevasses of subdued spryer seraphic black holes while limning parables in concocting the pennilion of life, kindred a light in the sea of darkness as echoing a laugh in the sea of sadness.
• Waking up to the dawn of hope for hypothetical love.
• Walking down the patio of fragile questions of hypocritical life.
• Working unswervingly nether the subtle diligence of cranky narcissistic sickos; tacitly gulping the martyrdoms of embryonic hankerings.
• Envisaging to declaim the sonnets of penance orisons to the sloppy cuddles of my li'l sunny sonny as bed time stories; in the hope to make him acquaint with the immorality of morals of so-called society.
• Lullabying an insomniac soul with the implacable mystical melodies of dark quiescence.
On a rainy day, Over a sip of a long black I perceived its my mistake, to trust everyone/everything, whoever/whatever that comes to me, either the pain or the love, either the smile or the tear. Coz, somewhere in my core I believed that everyone might not 've raised like me.
Over another sip I perceived its my mistake, to love everyone every time unrequitedly, yet envisaging empathy, despite the void filled by abysmal brokenness. Coz, somewhere in my core I believed that everyone might not 've raised like me.
Over few more sips I perceived its my mistake, to dwell in this surfeit of melancholia as if i'm nobly devoted to the habitual dolour. Coz, somewhere in my core I believed that everyone might not 've raised like me.