A song of confusion

Here I enrich you
but the star in the sky dedicated the memory.
Like wayside cluster, wine bottles all guitars become probes.
Your pencil is a miracle filled with senile essence.
It magnifies like a salt in the planetarium.
A bicycle is not enough to condemn me and keep me from the city of your parenthetical epiphany.
Around the sea shell of the boulevard where you sleep, a dream falters into inscriptions.
I took on frightened eddies.
A sterile fellowship day of wide bread, spirit of the burnt umber lakes , condemned custodian blood, your kisses appreciate into exile and a droplet of glass, with remnants of the chimney.
Pure blood builds the stars carry me onto your bicycle - the mango of my starlight -
the banner entertains in fashioning your hand.
Man of the depths of my brow - your responding stills your absent minded regard as though it were wind.
It was a rusted business of ego and oblivions.
A curves and a nose connecting the divisions.
Wheat field.
There are many bloody feathers around torrential events.
A image for point of view is the lack thereof.
Pockets of iron converted into bolt of silken.