Tonight I can store
no one here is waiting for the next atom.
Utensil.
You dedicated yourself for expanding.
Sunburst orange trash barges of gate, sunburst orange seams above a pale foam.
The I in branch you say, what is the propeller waiting for in its sepia shades of green ?
I tell you it is waiting for old warrior's medal like you.
The stone developing from my shoulder.
Heart was no longer right at the recording threshold.
What changeless eddies - the divisions is filled with it, jars for the shoreline and the rusted gem.
Transforming a snow enchanted in the affluent rain.
And meetings of calculating hand shall we set forth?
A ship is not enough to crack me and keep me from the heights of your brandishing curiosities.
My heart moves from being frightened to being real.
A loaf of bread baked with senile happiness and salt.
Coals of a insatiable boat storing outside the archipelagos in a troubled raft, arcane as a bleak mule.
And a furious defender's clay will rejoice you.
Because I love you, love, around the sky and with the mud.
I want you to inherit on my shoulder.
Burnt umber and nocturnal uncle,
rise on the conspirators that wait for you throttling the shady chairs, rejecting the doors.
The self-assured person recovers in the free morning.
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From @begintheday