Dreams, my only escapisms
No more realisms or academisms
Only altruisms and fairyisms
There, where my love lies in mysticisms!
Dreams, made of your essence
I become there not a butterfly
But a moth craving for luminescence
Wild and free, as pig in a pigsty!
Dreams, the only place where I can let go
And speak of all that has never been said
All that pain in my veins which made me an albino
All gets drained away, as it had been soothsaid!
Dreams, my own escapisms
To run away from reality
A harsh and cruel monstrosity
Made up of your aching absenteisms!
A delusory pleasure bristled the solitary abator
And the dusky night rides down the sky
An ethereal beauty demoed with her au naturel demeanor
The solitary abator bumps with illusions, thus far realisms high.
Elated with red-hot mysticisms the abator closed his eyes
And mildly felt the zephyr over the mum wispy time
She reposed in her bareness beside his devout envies
The abator fluffed up ca-cacing his limbs to ease with spirit and bine.
An awaited soul perked up with flavour of lust and zeal
And the midnight silence prolonged to be livening with insidiousness
She abreast herself over his frvid spirit of unreal
The abator matte-up bosoming her with barmy tenderness.
The ravenous abator intimated himself in the same state of bareness
And the dark moonless night beamed with perfect ecstacy and elan
She ooohed legalizing the demon-ridden enduringness
The abator held himself with an abrupt spasmodic movement of his organ.
The wonky estrus abator coaxed himself with the pleasure of onanism
And the gentle breeze was felt to soothe the pragmatism
Slowly her au naturel beauty faded, idling the eroticism
Bequeathing the abator's midnight oneirism.
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