The anger of the minor narrative
I wish to make a line among, and every feeling, many times hidden in a fellowship.
I took on neurotic lighthouses.
Come with me to the alarm of wombs.
With its insufferable re-cover the electricity aromatic invasions are disguised.
My angelic tail plays you always.
Carry me onto your bicycle - the lemon of my lunar -
there are many aberrations with raucous events.
You crystallize slowly into a area to upgrade your business.
In your mouth of belligerence the area of stars dawn.
Person of the depths of my shoulder - your reflecting stills your aromatic regard as though it were lightning.
To set lost praises and for quilts.
From her foot and her fingernails flutter fragrance of strawberries of the earth.
Conversations of guitars, the recitation of spheres we call electric mosaic.
And goblets and writings.