Plucking words from the guts of this quivering nebula. 

Moon, my stammering moon, 

my controversial moon, 

my identity to formation. 

This road through flurocent lights and this poem for you, 

just for you. 

Shameless luster everywhere, 

from stairways to jerking pleasure inside a red car. 

With every passing stream, lives buying liquors from you. 

Lucid ecstacy from every dead flowers, 

and my flawless whore enumerates barren words. 

Voids impregnated by your silver semen. 

All of you… All kind of craps and souls need all of you.  

Love which touches every dusts and every floating eyeballs. 

Yes this must be that love…beyond the idea of love. 

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