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.