Prose 8 - LeSS to be truE

Living in this flawless world of ceaseless motion that cascades me beyond your griefless sight, wish I could love those motionless and brimless passions within my breath hord. In the darkness of the shallow nymph, i see your hand grabs me with spellless dream and lush vision. To the bright moon, to the altar that drops me the holy tears of you. Dreaming those dainty cane and lane that would draw me from the ruthless and fearless moment, makes me crouch my loveless sensation between those merciless boulder river. I heard those melodious tones of your breeze and zephyr voice, telling me how much I need you in this drawless emoticon. I can feel those heardless hurt  of your souls within your helpless hope. For every moment that sieges us in a breathless hiss, you raise me up to the anionless heath of the camouflage. Those ail and those pain of avant-garde of you, slip me into the world that seeks my tearless indulgence of running passion unto your angelic look. You are less to be true, with those fogless of your figureless shadow. Indeed you heed my soul and heed my unspoken mood. Nothing should I compare you with those pristine and cloudless days. Roam in the night of heatless violet smog, watching you stand by the bizarre purple lunette, lain in those utterless thoughtful longing. You answer my needless desire forest, you question my desireless emotion of the dark sky in meliorate your regardless aid. Those white sands and those flaxen alluring of your red sentiments, are what make the fadeless line of the shore grows shadeless... in those sweet moment of you and my whisperless being.