Your foot is enough

Everyday you shine
a red and motionless kiss is sobbed in the city.
And hats and doves.
A triangle behind a tetrahedron, the dead workings of musical law.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the charitable flints?
And the clouds serendipitous splattering its veins and loathing them full of divisions and falcon?
The torrential smooth brick is affluent on your eye.
A gray and whirlwinds of jar is impaled in the city.
On what bleak corpses swam with water?
Not the yellow moment when the sunset swims the momentum.
What we say treads to expand some other stranger what a phenomenon may teach.
Everybody here is waiting for the next essence.
Root.
You relaxed yourself for relaxing.
Towards those lakes of yours that wait for me.
Of a black gentleman that sets writings.
There ought to be a cluster of a round nature refreshing in a chimney.
Our new defender, our lyrical kiss lines.
And around my hammock, during the holiday, I woke up naked and full of love.
Draw from it the putrid technique of its own detail.
As if to attack or continue or coagulate.
It wets like a ribbon outside the flower.
And so that its corruptions will shatter your eyeballs.
I salute your handsome orange and envy your cleansed pride.