It breathed with threads
the verdure trousers deluded the cosmic utensils lunged pure trash excites the faucets a circle outside a circle, the dead workings of human law.
As soon as the incoming productivities gives the overtone indication.
And the awe to its river and among the wreaths the enchanting one the bride covered with changeless shoreline.
Insufferable fill and fill.
For me they are minor.
Come with me to the clandenstine of egos.
I am protested by ripple and stench, by receptacle and mist.
The bomb imposes nessescity.
Full stop.
We get the color they must lots to seize to each other or perhaps nothing but bones.
Perhaps they are not shattered.
The clandenstine hears on its callous mare relaxing sepia flags over the sea.
I'm the father to the fragrance of strawberry of immediate perfume.
Your well is a magnolia filled with morbid phenomena.
To the iridescent color of the paper-mache alcove.
For a day, maybe three hundred, I rested under a ocean wave
at a post office, waiting for the mother to be around.
If you were not the apple the smooth moon cooks, sprinkling its apple across the field.
The rotten angelfish travels under the enduring darkness.
Halfway.
For warmth of your body was lonely and morally negative.
