Trying to escape the limb of an octopus, my pulse vibrates at the landing of the airplane.
My heart beats faster reminiscent of a railroad train. My body shakes with the sound of a raging twister tantamount to the voice propelling my name and in the array, I see this delicate persona streaming down the corner heating up my blood like a sperm in search of an egg.
Along side, my voice whispers at sound of his voice. Lost love, a burning fire, resplendent candle in the edge of a stairway, an appetizer for a lost soul a ring of a bonfire.
Angelic as always and staring at the brink of the artery, love beams in a dark Sunday night. Hand and hand strolling by the calm river, my heart beats like a juvenile in heat, blowing the abandoned cabin where the stethoscope becomes a refuge of a life long desire.
Like a delicate blossom flower in search of a brilliant star, she was only a light bug in the tip of the golden beach seeking to propel her inner disgust into the ocean.
Queen bee descended into the acropolis towing her latest ornament as a squadron of spiders cocooning her way into the conundrum. Fearlessly chanting her heart out, adrenaline on high gear, she bravely portrayed her soul and confident of her possess, she posed to conquer the caravan. Not intending to be a heroin but an hallucinating immaculate, she giggled her way around, shrugging the lethargic faces.
Built in a square format, all the spaces of the four-roomed cozy two hundred square feet dwelling, opened to an area that served as dining/living room and occasionally functioned as a sleeping quarters for visiting friends and family. The two warm bedrooms were utilized by the parents and the other by the four siblings. They were small in space and served also as a storage for the few articles they possessed. In-house toilet was none existent. Much of the toilet services were positioned far-off the vicinities, out in the wood, in decrepit installations, often surrounded by tolerable stench smell, on alternative avenue where natural sanitation was impossible.