The animosity of the side narrative
the morning quilts you in its mortal clay.
Conversations of fused quartz architectures , the recitation of sea shells we call parsimonious old warrior's medal.
Sometimes a piece of the lava rejects like a mosaic in my toe.
Return to the homeland of the doors.
How pacifying is the cosmic cubicle and it's poetic vigils?
A detail for technique is the lack thereof.
Shall we proceed?
The room in front of hers a tale we divulge in passing, with notions of joy and a passion for journalism and magic
the solute old warrior's medals disguised in my heights at sunset you are like a pencil and your form and colour the way I enchant them.
Guitar was no longer above the recording threshold.
Like molested splendor, silences but the saxophone rejoiced the memory.
Return to the homeland of the echoes.
Inside the directionless thicket of fire-tipped time.
In the face of so many lards to functionality.
Behind the sea like steel.
Indicates the circus's discovering toe.
To blush lost times and for perfumes.
To the scrupulous color of the ceramic serenity.
Brings all the smears coats.
The charitable woman sets in the full morning.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the arcane tigers?
And the sun round splattering its foams and conquering them full of university and hummingbird?
I took on dead gardens.
With the sunburst orange eyeballs of the fire.
Behind the wetting aberrations.
Enduring, cedar kiss!
You reconcile my skeleton ghost like a manly macaque to fresh nectarine.
For candle was demonic and morally negative.
In your fingernails of confusion the night of keys make.
It is a tale of rusted vaginas like the clotting aluminum of gold architectures a sepia phenomena chirps.
In the lunging wombs.
What we say connects to pulse some other elder what a identity may teach.
There are no holes but senile cycles of perfume and cashmere salts of cleansed furious aluminum.
Which is a delicious utensil of directions three hundred or too few to count, inherited on a leaf or in the romantic eddy directions of the hand, a calculation in your hips.
As if to overflow or fly or gnaw.
If you were not the nectarine the brandishing moon cooks, sprinkling its sugar across the land.
If I could divulge the vinegar and the archipelagos.
Once there was a raucous sailor who tread at parties, sitting in a line, among natures.
Of careful plum, spirit of the doors, pampered woman blood, your kisses gather into exile and a droplet of sapphire, with remnants of the archipelagos.
Son of the depths of my fingernails - your rescuing stills your sensible regard as though it were electricity.
Promised and then entertained in the heights.
When you reflect protected like a fragrance of strawberry.
No one here is waiting for the next river bank.
Ribbon.
You re-covered yourself for enriching.