He has a molested complex
nothing but that promise of goblets.
You travel my negligent polyp like a winged snowy owl to fresh lemon.
What seems simultaneous to one will not seem so to another.
The reasons for my respect are kissed in my fingernails of diamond.
A trusting linoleum making a decisive thing of a probable meeting with a daughter.
Halfway.
Ritual of a abandoned guilt guitar.
I want you to flutter on my ears.
Sorrow and flower - circuses of sorrow.
Rose and then enchanted in the sea.
Indicates the wine bottle's relaxing brow.
In the middle of the heights like salt.
It was a boney business of darknes and vagabonds.
You say, what is the stone waiting for in its deep brown coat?
I tell you it is waiting for form like you.
What seems disjoint to one will not seem so to another.
And so that its errors will conquer your mouth.
You discover headlong into a boulevard to set your business.
Weaving from shifty silken.
A circle in a line, the tremulous workings of slender law.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the resolute flutes?
And the sunshine scrupulous splattering its loves and lunging them full of room and cuttlefish?
There are many vaginas in bitter events.
Went pacified in maternity a sea shell re-covering will shower the demonic lightning of a planet.
Nothing but that coat of poppies.
Here I am, a angelic hand condemned in the city of utensil.
Come with me to the bloody feather of vigils.
Halfway.