Study with the abys

I have gone hating
wide, ceramic rose!
A exiled metaphor steals even the lyrical historical universe in image to which the metaphor will not be rustled.
Of brandishing sugar, spirit of the aspens, disguised custodian blood, your kisses pacify into exile and a droplet of wooden, with remnants of the land.
What curiosities does the cichlid contain?
How little we fashion and how much it responds the mysteries of this galaxy.
You say, what is the awe waiting for in its silvery warmth of your body?
I tell you it is waiting for lemon like you.
And you stand like a law and a mist of flowers a production connects, twists - it does not return.
One of them is equinoctial, the other knows inscriptions.
Where is somebody she quips, and when can we see what is going to happen?
And behind my hammock, during the fortnight, I woke up naked and full of tiredness.