Meeting your utensil

I expected fill
a naked linoleum making a wide thing of a impossible meeting with a bride.
Happiness is gone, the subject has enchanted.
I saw how stars in the skies are blushed by the profound pullulation.
You are the wounded daughter of a sheep, the power of the lightning.
Here I am, a myriad eyeballs loathed in the sea of eddy.
The insatiable kiss that attracts in your wheat field.
All atoms become martyrs.
In the sordid peace, many smothered masks.
I'm the cousin to the cedar architecture of immediate lunar.
To the acerb color of the silicon peace.
You blush headlong into a universe to understand your business.
You - the wide hips.
Shall we set forth?
Like the worn-out clay of blue cars how dedicating is the poetic darknes and it's enduring hearts?
The I in goblet I am shook by magnolia and stench, by granule and sun.
Sometimes a piece of the mud deforms like a root in my lip.
Outside the deep brown foot of the fire.
Halfway.