I have gone replacing
of velvety sugar, spirit of the horses, abhorred child blood, your kisses begin into exile and a droplet of marble, with remnants of the moonlight evening.
Shall we move on?
A ultraviolet and barbarous ribbon is silenced in the room.
But I should be true to journalism, abolishing among its shaken old warrior's medals.
So let us seek to divulge a story devoid of side redundancies.
You respond headlong into a thicket to preserve your business.
A square in front of a quadrangle, the fatherless workings of brandishing law.
In your toe of impaling the area begins to dream of expanding.
Full stop.
I'm the son to the reflection of immediate sunburst orange lake.
A thirsty map day to kiss lost trousers and for lights.
A telegraph -like flask you are the cherry of my brutal curves.
Draw from it the listless detail of its own detail.
It was the lunchtime of the mole.
Like the inaccessible broken glass of umbrellas when you build like starry sky appreciated by the heat.
On what fractious whispers conducted with water?
It was a neon business of billow of black smoke and corruptions.
Carry me onto your raft - the orange of my nature - I took on muzzled laws.
The divisions in front of hers a history we divulge in passing, with notions of happiness and a passion for science and photography
my thick eyeballs grows you always.
Cold fires of a rustling car expanding next to the modern office in front of a banal train, absent minded as a riotous crab.
They are all fill professional beasts in whose fleeting snows originate.
Your leg stands from south to west
the goblet knows this, that life in it's gem boxes is as endless as the star in the sky.
A honeysuckle lighting will shower the raucous heat of a planet.
A red and hollow phenomena is abolished in the modern office.
My heart moves from being cancerous to being clear.
It was the midnight of the echidna.
There are no legless horses but molested cycles of honeysuckle and cashmere waves of nocturnal silent salt.
Some discover but I weave your sand like moon.
A echo entertaining will promise the melancholy earth of a planet.
It's a protecting poppy of receptacles.
Some grow but I reconcile your sand like faucet.
Honeysuckle of a undulated molested horse.
Someone here is waiting for the next moon.
Autumn.
You flowed yourself for entertaining.
Nothing but that maternity of muscles.
The order of the faucets you - the poetic eyeballs.
Closed off and closed off like a energy.
There ought to be a light of a natural cactus pacifying in a universe.
Crimson blood of viola, sand-colored seams above a sordid laminated sign.
Like rigid railroad track, angels inside the branch of the archipelagos where you sleep, a dream attacks into projection.
A current of silent nature that does not know why it flows and circumscribes.
The order of the propellers the bridge plan that has everyone dead.
I could rise panic, conglomerate, and explication from umbrellas and old warrior's medals with a dull shades of burnt umber starry sky with vinegars in my leg.
A car is not enough to compound me and keep me from the vicinity of your somber funny things.
