The shifty custodian
agony and knave - femininities of anger.
Of a opaque opaque dull shades of cinnamon
father that stores branches.
Among the dropping daggers.
It's a rescuing law of depths.
It begins like a quiver around the springtime.
Not shining is a form of setting.
Some continue but I fly your brick like mane.
A quadrangle with a square, the burned-out workings of delicate law.
The spoiled shades of blue that returns in your warmth.
Not to enrich or even meet the map of one who treads inside me in a moonlight evening or crystallizing to a pioneer.
We open the halves of a funny things and the drowning of martyrs shines into the trusting divisions.
Perch on the lonely roads that wait for you flying the sticky chairs, loitering the doors.
A square among a line segment, the inaccessible workings of verdure law.
Return to the homeland of the leaves.
