Chronicle Of Mishaps

This feeling of adorn in her aura, a grandiose of continuation.
Her hands with the characteristics of an earthquake.
Third degree burn. The universe turned and appeared so unfit before my eyes.

Manifested monuments.

I am a Martian in love with a human but sire is too down to earth, kiss me when I wear my human face, fulfill my alien task.
Sire do not enquire to behold me in broad day light, rather in dimness.
Gaze upon me and look beneath my unhumanoid shape as though we are juxtaposed.

Desire me. . .

Though I need not be ashamed, my heart will not admit.
Will my tongue be the lawyer as to when my heart sues my brain?
My mind roaming throughout space and time. Pit of despair,

Sire and I.
Vikings and Vagabonds.
Of Monsters and Man
Love sees no boundaries. . .