I am a loquacious, a storyteller of whimsy and woe
this poem is a jargogle of jumbling words
as I enter the forest to a cacophony of harsh sounds
oh, I often tend to be a gloomy crapehanger
and sometimes a fantasizer unable to distinguish
between fantasy and reality
escaping into the intricate world of poetry
it is a metamorphosis of a logophile word lover
oh, I am distracted by the wind in trees
and the rustling of leaves petrichor
and fall into an elysian state
it is an ephoria so intense with mellifluous feelings
sometimes I find myself in an assemblage of headstones
as I meander to the symphony of bird songs
as the darkness of death wraps around me
and the withered flowers are beautiful to behold
lost, lost in a reverie rhapsodic, unraveling words
and living in the moment, detached
The Dreamer the fantasizer the Old Soul the caring the loving the sweet the innocent the beautiful soul
The one that cares too much the one who gives too much but always neglects himself
The poet the artist the writer the dancer The Storyteller the actor the drawer the painter the singer the musician
The emotional crying broken Pisces
I'm Fantasizer of our Pandora World,
I burn in passion of fire in our fantasy marathon,
Overwhelmed by the air of hallucinations,
How I wish I could disturb my sleep.
I float on the lake of my heartily tears,
And sink into the ocean of your flaunting love,
Then,how I wish I could escape from the valley of death.
I hug with my illusional heartthrob chick,
Drunk with the wine of her delude smile,
Then,how I wish I could think about the end of my life.