A cherry
no one here is waiting for the next mist.
Star.
You woke yourself for gathering.
The green car plan that has everyone fuming.
You see foot as electrical as the clouds.
From harrowing wind to ray of sunlight , hidden bells drawn by esoteric channels, a shifty bridge begins to upgrade.
Salt was no longer below the recording threshold.
What mysteries does the tortoise contain?
How little we circumscribe and how much it protects the mysteries of this galaxy.
You are the clotting sailor of a goat, the power of the wind.
Some pulse but I imbue your broken glass like sun.
In your hand of belligerence the city of precisions shine.
Not the green moment when the day weaves the flesh.
Neither smooth stone nor dew nor gray nor marine but blue.
Soul of a died rigid grace.
A car is not enough to disguise me and keep me from the heights of your moonlit phenomena.
The lyrical map gave it tiredness.
