tokyo
tokyo
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the red balloon has left
a vain account of the amount of pain
it rippled through; my crippled truth
has been endangered by a ranger or a stranger to be diplomatic.
melodramatic is this automatic utter havoc.
is this a loving affair of dare i claim to be loco?
inside of tokyo the local locomotion is focal,
and i just can’t seem to fathom the emanation of atoms;
the limitations - i had them, but now this adam is even,
for eden’s breathing belief and love, which can only be holy.
the lowly people will know the only true wisdom is loving,
and nothing needs to be feared; love had only seemed to appear, of
course i interpreted it at a pace of twice too many days at once,
but the seance will never end, so do befriend a foolish trend
or be prepared to air awareness out. without a doubt
i'm overthinking this addicting state of mind,
but all i find's excuses for the uses and abuse this, then i lose this.
of dreams in which forgetting is a thing which brings us closer to the truth,
but if the youth is simply dumb, am i not numb? a rule of thumb;
i'll never fall in love again. you call me, then you leave the conversation
for a duration i believe to be extended past all the befriended kisses.
no one misses you like me, 'cause you're a mist of bliss and loneliness.
is this the list of things you miss in this abyss of nothingness?
tell me when and tokyo city will again be on a witty
page; the sages nod and flee the cages of the ages of the mob,
and if you come to realise the lies in linen, certain women will remain a mystery.
the history appears to be one of the red balloon; a boon like this is so eternal;
a journey so internal is what's needed, so defeated do not feel;
conceal, conceal, and what is real will soon reveal itself to you;
i'm loving you and asking you this-