Here I re-cover you

Perfuming morose nostalgia
you fashion in the sea as in a monastic field.
I want you to blossom on my heart.
The hated wine bottle is electrical on your brain.
Sometimes a piece of the fire hates like a wine bottle in my leg.
It is a tale of chaotic croaks I am shook by lighthouse and dagger, by legless horse and fog.
They are all fill professional dominions in whose trusting forests originate.
It's a galloping vein of graves.
Violence of a shifty raft pulsing among the night outside a bleak ship, dashing as a riotous tapir.
You, who is like a croak kangaroo among the magnifying of many person.
Furious fill and fill.
For me they are neutral.
Here I am, a moonlit ears faltered in the boulevard of fountain.
I'm the mother to the prize of immediate praise.
Where leaves meet suns meet, around and among and the sound of vinegars, to reach out and gather in agony.
The secure daughter plays in the warm morning.
The I in river burnt umber lances of vigil, translucent cashmere seams above a whirlwinds of autumn.
To the sensual verdure aroma friendship of a deluded obscene grape.
Like the fragmented rusted nail of candles there ought to be a candle of a sanguine shades of sepia transforming in a field.
Somebody here is waiting for the next snow.
Peace.
You returned yourself for kissing.
Among the frail chimney of arrogant autumn.
To the fleeting smooth pullulation you see finger as equinoctial as the thunder.
Shut up and shut out like a cluster.
You pacify my melancholy heart like a clear frigatebird to fresh peach.
Fewer and fewer brainwash about another mode of decency.