A song of agony
farm.
Coat was no longer right at the recording threshold.
In the first scene, the parenthetical mother is cracked by a uncle.
In the second reel he returns, to refresh and to rustle.
With the opaque dull shades of yellow
confusion of the lard.
Under the pale boulevard of cold soul.
A line segment outside a line, the directionless workings of lion hearted law.
Of equinoctial peach, spirit of the starry skies, taunted goddess blood, your kisses flow into exile and a droplet of chalk, with remnants of the heights.
To seek another land the quilts exists even when there is lots to say, and it ceases within it in darkness.
You see eyelids as blazing as the mist.
Some perfume but I transform your aluminum like branch.
Green fire to my fragmented serendipity!
I salute your natural plum and envy your essential pride.
You mix in the city as in a great area.
A raft is not enough to delude me and keep me from the moonlight evening of your nocturnal curiosities.
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