You are dressed with filaments and people take pains to make you fully incandescent this evening. In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. I sense wild vapors of sweet champagne in your larynx. In your presence even my shadow acquires the sensation of touch. You have not yet reached the height of your creativity. May you always have stables of horses to service your needs. As the bliss slowly rises in my incandescent eluxulator, your mere presence has a euphoric effect upon me. Your hair sends forth a sheen remniscent of golden sunlight winding through shadows. The elves that play in the toasters wash their drum sticks in honey and sing strikingly colored anthems in perfect harmonious pleasure. What wonderful vibrations you are capable of. Your intoxicating reflection can but incorporate freely into the powerful surface of a disintegrating mirror set afloat upon a swarm of locusts. Entranced by the sweet harmony of your lips, I gaze beyond reason to find the oasis of your brilliant soul.
