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something about keats
I gathered the sheer notion that true emotions bottled beyond one's
own soul creates untimely gestures
not lived out through human actions through human emotions we are then driven to a calm rapture of emotional madness balanced within the mere naught of
needing or desiring a taunting
nature filled with lust why one
mustn't consciously consume such closeness for another's soul without feeling foolishly wild that one's own
breathless panting could be hopelessly taken away in an
instance by thought to be therefore
left alone with only a fathom of a profond memory of the
souls own inner most passionate
heart while entering a life force of
it's own to be catered lest we forget the bountiful energy a source of pure compassion an intimate wanting nurturing craving to be loved
spiritually immortally eternally
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