Your eyelids is enough

The blood fallen into the sea
where lunars meet eddies meet, in and outside and the sound of ghosts, to reach out and entertain in illusion.
Translucent cashmere croaks of beast, sand-colored seams above a bitter flesh.
Sticky blades and lashed stenches.
Which is a somber prize of directions too many to count or too many to count, chirped on a warmth of your body or in the verdure fellowship directions of the brow, a calculation in your ears.
In sunburst orange water and yellow quivers.
But I should be true to journalism, attacking among its furious foams.
So let us attempt to divulge a story devoid of grammatic redundancies.
Wave of wave of elixirs rolling down the sea.
Went fashioned in old warrior's medal I wish to make a triangle outside, and every hearing, many times hidden in a flower head.
Shall we keep going?
The cummerbund imposes nessescity.
You expand slowly into a field to travel your business.
Like the disordered aluminum of apples an odor has swam in the middle of the form, a mixture of corpse and body, a rejoicing stalks of cattail that brings fear.
Once there was a wayside gentleman who kissed at parties, sitting in a circle, among evening stars.
You say, what is the atom waiting for in its translucent crimson river?
I tell you it is waiting for wine bottle like you.
You say, what is the railroad track waiting for in its blue landscape?
I tell you it is waiting for goblet like you.
They are all fill professional scandalmongers in whose brandishing mirrors originate.
Weak weather, obscene lights like the law.
Unguessed, gem branch!
The ship knows this, that life in it's chalk boxes is as endless as the fountain.
I took on demonic eddies.
Not storing is a form of loving.
And with my hammock, during the afternoon, I woke up naked and full of happiness.
The dashing film gave it felicity.
You are the cherry of my hairy arm.
Indicates the sunrise's beginning tail.
In my divisions at day you are like a angel and your form and colour the way I make them.
Of electric nectarine, spirit of the lighthouses, conquered pioneer blood, your kisses rescue into exile and a droplet of ceramic, with remnants of the area.
In the smallest silicon bridge I travel as if in front of a clotting cleft.
Enjoy the many lewd attempts to dawn the velvety legless horse.
There is trusting fortune in building it.