Emotional Perfect Tense; modes of 8 and 3

In the course of watching the movie over my face, something becomes really plain,
There is a kind of fall-in-love sensation growing either inside or outside on a plane
When the drop falls upon my head soon after the burning sunny weather in the rain,
Thoughts turn into a sort of chaos, whereby hearts are suffering due to the blocked drain
There is neither a phrase nor a word left behind for anybody to be able to amply explain
In your pointless absence, minds and souls are charged with nonsense, going too insane
Whenever your miraculous appearance shines, I hold my breath within a heart-lain;
Trying to catch your glance in a way, this poor being is loitering on the winding lane,
Under which the veins throughout my body are smashed, hardly struggling to maintain
Gain any type of gaze, my LOYOUVE; bring my very being into existence along with the brain,
Since I have fallen into a deep hole of mindlessness and I have felled the device of sense-crane
Invent a literature featuring all types of fiction and create a utopia that will forever remain
I am in profound lack of your stars which might drop over my all, omitting the touches to sustain
Left with a stone gathering no mass without you, this man is longing for you from any train

8-3= 5; my love is five over five, my LOYOUVE...

Within the unconscious world you don't inhabit lives a man having coins of feelings to spend,
The ground where you don't walk around is the stage on which this man has grieves to expend,
Having filled the life with so many unknown words, the man has had the respiration to suspend,
However, you are ocean apart from realizing the truth that the man has a togetherness to intend;
There is a calendar drawn here and there, the dates of which never witness the moment you attend,
My mind has built a fortress all around himself, thus being alert all the time in order to defend,
"I am the heaven where you; my LOYOUVE, live at ease", which is the statement that I contend,
The sand pieces of my soul have knelt upon your arrival, whereby they dramatically extend

8+3= 11; The first '1' is my LOYOUVE, while the second '1' is me, which refers to our marriage...

Too abrupt as it may seem, the volcanoes will erupt as I scream and ashes will dance in the breeze;
You get to monitor the living beings run up and down and hear the deafening sound they release,
In the aftermath of the action in turmoil, they will come to wonder who possesses that tease
And a heavenly voice emerges from the hole of the earth, expounding the love-spell at ease
In the wake of what has happened, your body will sense how terribly the weather will freeze
My love is like the earthquake of the moon and My love is an eternal melody, being at disease

8 * 3 = 24; I am attached to you; my LOYOUVE, even 7 over 24...

There has always existed a question in my mind since time tempted to seduce;
"At which love-stop will that heart have a rest?" a real conflict to reproduce,
My eyes are ardently after every clicking hour that your beauty has got to use
And create a lesson whose deadline is in paradise and which will always introduce
There is a man nearby and he is crawling arduously; shed a light on me and I can induce

8 / 3 = 2,666667 : Without you, I am deficient, I am insufficient and I am helpless

Just complete my sanity; my LOYOUVE so that I loyou've flown with happiness...

Written by
the master of loneliness
Okan EMANET

Dedicated to nobody

Betrayal, dedicated to those who know Okan Emanet

Betrayal

Betrayal is the last trace of survival,
though you; the heartless, think to the contrary
cheat on me on and on, as you flame the old ashes with sudden arrival
charge this sanity with your presence and attempt to bury

Split the poison on your mouth, for which reason the scars get exposed to revival
Bring in your sovereignty over what I haven't attained at all
embody into an existence that has never lived as a whole in one soul

Throughout the nano-story of love conflicts have spread the callous tears of being left,
you tempt to write a poem including tension and feel-felt
and the journey will get a start into the deep forest of your mind
though the promises given there are supposed to be kept,
you will again drift apart and won't find

The soldiers of my heart equipped with honour and love are wounded one by one,
when in face of such a tormenting scene
and again they are applied any torture once seen
They once more flock to the deserted area inhabited by no-one
trying to forget what has been done,
the troops of loyalty are sentenced to the prison of relationship-fun

As anyone can see, this spirit has smelled this life in sense of conjunction,
whereas trials and cries have lost their function
I have spent this life again searching for a way to take the place in the main sentence,
just as a contestant in a race struggles to occupy a rank in the fence;
as usual I am channelled into believing that I am obliged to stay in defence
take the weapon of betrayal, lo! Those in the know of mine
and as before go on to be fine...
just grab a knife behind me
in that way, live in sheer harmony
disperse the light of heaven
and kill the goodness in every haven...