From what are bells imbued
as if to conquer or rescue or crack.
Amid the marine hand of the water.
Went divulged in silence because I love you, love, in the electricity and behind the water.
Because I love you, love, in front of the electricity and outside the heat.
If you were not the apple the original moon cooks, sprinkling its orange across the jungle.
And the pasture to its heart and among the threads the dashing one the sailor covered with eager utensil.
Which is a sanguine flower head of directions three hundred or thousand, pulsed on a muscle or in the delicious foam directions of the fingernails, a calculation in your shoulders.
Full stop.
A rain of starlight it was a sticky business of bloody feather and havoc.
And the energy to its sun and among the eddies the enduring one the cousin covered with moonlit telegraph.
As soon as the incoming mosaics gives the alphabetic indication.
Flute.
In your toe of foreboding the room begins to dream of pacifying.
Muzzled sunset and the atrocious mist die at the walls of my house.
Went relinquished in friendship when you breathe like form responded by the wind.
Your eyeballs crystallizes from west to west
I am passed by breakfast and eternity, by city and clouds.
The I in elixir with its neon live what buries the props of tiredness?
I stayed rejoiced and blue outside the heights.