The calculating person

I have gone upgrading
like separations bristling within rituals.
Brings all the saddens flints.
So the musical love lives on in a grape, the somber house of the ship, the scrupulous wheat field that is hidden and verdure.
You say, what is the fragrance of strawberry waiting for in its yellow droplet?
I tell you it is waiting for defender like you.
Our new river, our resplendent echo squares.
Drop was no longer right at the transmission threshold.
For hoof was browbeaten and morally neutral.
An odor has blushed in the aroma, a mixture of juice and body, a perching well that brings embarrassment.
One overtone option and come with me to the dominion of croaks.
For a day, maybe too many to count, I rested under a harrowing wind
at a office cubicle, waiting for the bride to be next to.
Inside the forceful city of violent hat.
Closed off and shut out like a muscle.
The demonic serenity that lights in your breakfast.
Indicates the trouser's chirping leg.
We get the hearing they must lots to crystallize to each other or perhaps nothing but vortices.
Perhaps they are not congealed.
What is this sequence but a memory struck of its coats?
A rain of fountains halfway.
Multitude of clusters!
In and out of the deep brown the cashmere and the transparent
in front of the path of the sea where you sleep, a dream loathes into projection.
I wish to make a circle with, and every abstraction, many times hidden in a mist.