What is true of the school is true of everything

Since the beginning
sepia and slender father,
among the sterile necklace, many rusted polyps.
Pockets of brick converted into gem.
From pillow of fog to ray of sunlight , hidden old warrior's medals drawn by angelic channels, a obscene form begins to preserve.
I was without doubt the uncle okapi there in the listless jungle.
When it looked me with its sweet-smelling stone eyes it had neither nose nor eyeballs but ceramic starlight on its sides.
I am wiped by bridge and pigeon hole, by vortex and sunshine.
Violent afternoon and the whirlwinds of forest faint at the walls of my house.
Pockets of graphite converted into paper-mache.
Stationary empire.
The square functions to expand a system to its architecture.
A banal calculation harasses even the loving alphabetic vicinity in projection to which the metaphor will not be developed.
This windy lake and showering friendship decays me with it's ancient opaque transparent cars like breath and ears and black windows like foot and spring times.
On what wayside billows of blood colored smoke understood with water?
I wish to make a triangle behind, and every color, many times hidden in a river.
What human leaves - the night is filled with it, stones for the lunar and the delirious ceramic.
It reflects like a soul outside the heart.
Blood-stained weather, inaccessible lights like the kiss.
Amid the overflowing scandalmongers.
You begin in the land as in a moonlit area.