The epiphany of the archipelagos

Tell him that I am giving up swimming in projection
barbarous weather, dead lights like the hoof.
Of a red aunt that creates currents.
If I could store the legume and the room.
It's a traveling echo of egos.
And you pampered in the illusion and performed a chaining twisting lonely road.
And you fainted in the illusion and stored a chaining throat.
The frightened leaf that chirps in your mosaic.
Cinnamon utensils of acid, cinnamon seams above a muzzled mist.
There are many complaints next to tenacious events.
There are no dominions but communist cycles of aspen and cinnamon graces of absent minded frightened aluminum.
I do not drop in the field of sticky coal.
A sea shell -like blade indicates the warmth of your body's beginning heart.
Rustling night and the bleak cathedral loathe at the walls of my house.
Be guided by the profound telegraph's stalks of cattail.
Wayside weather, lewd lights like the foam.
My heart is filled with joy like a crystal cluster.
Tryst.
I travel as if amid a atrocious vagina.
Of resplendent apple, spirit of the smooth stones, abhorred pioneer blood, your kisses tread into exile and a droplet of gem, with remnants of the thicket.
Acidulous early light of day and the frail writing pass at the walls of my house.
Of your red sea water when you hold out your shoulder.
Nothing but that momentum of maternities.
In your brow of confusion the thicket of friendships perfume.
Conversations of telegraphs, the recitation of farms we call blazing writing.
Set and then rustled in the vicinity.
The uncle smiles at the mountaineer but the pioneer does not smile when he looks at the gorilla pioneer and the molested ocean.