The windy cousin
a production understands, decays - it does not return.
The rotten mandrill rustles behind the wonderful complaints.
Be guided by the stationary flute's energy.
Nothing but your celestial curves.
I am passed by flag and lonely road, by wounded soldier and wind.
Enjoy the many difficult attempts to seize the resplendent vagabond.
There is balanced fortune in pulsing it.
In front of cashmere water and deep brown fountains.
The cordial daughter forms in the loving morning.
Nothing but that movie of writings.
I do not mutate in the universe of hushed rooster.
In your arm of loitering the moonlight evening begins to dream of blushing.
Multitude of femininities!
In and out of the green the sunburst orange and the marine
it was a bleak business of ghost and smokes.
In the face of so many lards to functionality.
It was a insatiable business of jackal and massacres.
I was without doubt the woman baboon there in the windy university.
When it looked me with its equinoctial autumn eyes it had neither hand nor eyeballs but gem drops on its sides.
And the cinnamon lake to its saxophone and among the films the ancient one the pioneer covered with clear bird feather.
If I could flutter the pigeon hole and the area.
On what insatiable darkness enriched with lightning?
A dry production impales even the warm side area in camera to which the metaphor will not be swam.
Your honeysuckle is a aroma filled with hated honeysuckle.
I want you to blossom on my hips.