The quixotic storm has started murmuring its delirious litany. Or so she seemed.
You worry me. Inch by lurid inch. Like some batty word might change what we think we share.
Every minim seemed harrowingly vapid these past two decades for me. When you came, with your dauntless guise you lit up my dinky unnoticed with a blinding fire that burned my clueless supine heart to ashes.
Mad. Every single word had to matter. Fidgeting pensively whether to some extent I grew nakedly too gay, too scary. Too freaky. Or just too much. With you.
Perhaps this heart is too eager to faint if I'd scare you away. More honestly, there might be that fear of losing you. Don't ask me why. I can't quite grasp it either. It drives me deadmad every time I try to dig out a reason that I can follow with this ridiculously newfangled paroxysm.
You keep me ending up crippled of sense. Tell me something candid; because this nameless faceless commotion that's squeezing my glitched up heart out is too powerful to be unreal.
Current Mood: Plagued 
Listening to: Fresh Feeling by Eels
