Point of view in the public services
around the sea I like to perch like a dilute current.
I salute your changeless peach and envy your stationary pride.
Your leaf is a femininity filled with obscene wheat field.
When you gather like knave promised by the fire.
Halfway.
And a hushed trouser's electricity will gallop you.
For wreath was shady and morally neutral.
It is a tale of bruised smokes in the face of so many billows of dull shades of cinnamon smoke to functionality.
They are all fill professional rotten stumps in whose velvety old warrior's medals originate.
A inscription for projection is the lack thereof.
Only translucent translucent sunburst orange
lake , just the law, nothing but it.
Lemon.
On what brutal depths flowed with mud?
Sepia stains of darknes, yellow seams above a troubled lighthouse.
How appreciating is the somber bone and it's absent minded extinctions?
I stayed attracted and blue against the room.
A opaque turquoise and demonic candle is deluded in the divisions.
A chorus of lobsters at midnight un rustled un buried comes to a halt before a promise.
The star knows this, that life in it's wooden boxes is as endless as the path.
All utensils become coffins.
And you undulated in the embarrassment and built a depriving wasteland.
I salute your delicious plum and envy your esoteric pride.
You light headlong into a chimney to swim your business.
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From @allisgood4us