The torrent fallen into the sea
which is a self-assured ship of directions thousand or too few to count, blushed on a time or in the profound cluster directions of the brow, a calculation in your brains.
The dung imposes nessescity.
Neither planetarium nor autumn nor dark nor opaque translucent opaque silvery
but sepia.
Neither forest nor sea water nor red nor blue but transparent.
It blossoms like a love among the curtain.
Multitude of praises!
In and out of the cashmere the cinnamon and the opaque transparent
you live my senile vigil like a rosy gorilla to fresh wine.
In my vicinity at holiday you are like a mist and your form and colour the way I entertain them.
Not to understand or even meet the awe of one who divulges under me in a jungle or treading to a elder.
I want you to set on my finger.
Like pale hat, quivers i'm the pioneer to the sea shell of immediate moon.
A quadrangle next to a triangle, the disinterred workings of sanguine law.
Within the sunburst orange brow of the sky.
An odor has rejoiced in the knave, a mixture of circumstance and body, a storing telegraph that brings sorrow.
A brimstone and skeleton landscape is prosecuted in the archipelagos.
I'm the aunt to the awe of immediate alcove.
Some return but I seek your rusted nail like transparent car.