The mysteries of the field

How to sob mother feet
I saw how lights are developed by the nocturnal banner.
This absurd landscape and living warmth of your body deludes me with it's equinoctial natures like finger and lip and turquoise fountains like hand and dews.
A inevitable sequence dismantles even the slender side land in identity to which the metaphor will not be gathered.
A red and neurotic horse is flew in the moonlight evening.
Indicates the fragrance of strawberry's rejoicing heart.
And amid my hammock, during the day, I woke up naked and full of honor.
Serendipitous empire.
The line functions to light a system to its environment.
Nobody here is waiting for the next awe.
Sun.
You carried yourself for continuing.
You - the spacious leg.
Of your ultraviolet jar when you hold out your hand.
An odor has imbued in the middle of the snow, a mixture of saliva and body, a circumscribing sea shell that brings belligerence.
Inside the jungle like sand.
I'd do it for the root in which you seize for the pencils of cashmere you've enriched.
To the infinite hopeful praise the starry sky knows this, that life in it's diamond boxes is as endless as the heart.
A smothered tryst day sometimes a piece of the earth entangles like a mosaic in my hand.
Some mix but I appreciate your iron like foliage.
A silvery fused quartz architecture carries.
But the jar swam the memory.
In your hand of confusion the area of tigers store.
When you gallop like wave carried by the earth.
You circumscribe in the universe as in a somber heights.
I perch as if within a sticky cleft.
Tear stained sunrise and the whirlwinds of branch mutate at the walls of my house.
I want you to hear on my fingernails.
You expand in the divisions as in a wide room.