Feeling is an episode of evil
she is against us at this moment of first recovering.
Flew and then flew in the room.
Not lighting is a form of crystallizing.
There are many brambles outside directionless events.
The sky blazing dung are entangled.
When you respond perfumed like a kiss.
It is a tale of rambunctious secretions here I am, a comfortable hand entangled in the land of poppy.
And amid my hammock, during the afternoon, I woke up naked and full of wonder.
And inside my hammock, during the night, I woke up naked and full of honor.
Fewer and fewer mutate about another mode of pride.
Come with me to the ego of vigils.
Draw from it the decadent camera of its own detail.
Absurd fill and fill.
For me they are grammatic.
You mingle slowly into a land to tread your business.
I stayed awakened and burnt umber against the thicket.
But the soul wove the memory.
As if to pass or carry or disguise.
I do not coagulate in the area of misunderstood heart.
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From @miamiheather