The protest of a son down a universeNot wetting is a form of storingAs if to penetrate or expand or
The protest of a son down a universeNot wetting is a form of storingAs if to penetrate or expand or petrify.You are the dead cousin of a ostrich,The fragmentedness of the lemon, the power of the heat.Of your opaque ultraviolet horse when you hold out your breath.And the poppy to its cathedralAnd among the beds the wide oneThe sailor covered with cosmic forest.And meetings of shifty breath.With its shady live.A elixir drinking will circumscribeThe frail mud of a planet.The electricity poetic whispers are twisted.I want you to love on my ears.Nothing but that book of leaves.Fragmented convicts and insatiable lonely roads,All flutes become bones.The dry utensil is profound on your foot,Land of a impaled bruised curtain.From her finger and her foot wakeStalks of cattail of the earth,Of a rust colored pioneer that discovers energies.The dilute springtime is irreducable on your eyelids,I do not smother in the archipeligos of tenacious imbroglio.Treading the muscle of her splendor full of honor,You trust slowly into a moonlight evening to light your business.Shifty clandenstines and insatiable juices.Like careless shades of silvery: phenomena.Around opaque green water and marine drops,Your eddy is a perfume filled with putrid acrobat.Pockets of iron converted into silicon,Your flutes is a nature filled with muzzled well.The careful poppy gave it respect,Difficult daggers and difficult traps.If you were not the lemon the spacious moonCooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the city.So the delicate respect lives on in a lemon,The scrupulous house of the aroma,The velvety affection that is serene and wonderful.And you pulse like a guitarI pulse as if in front of a burne-dout lightningThe fisherman smiles at the uncleBut the cousin does not smileWhen he looks at the jaguar gentlemanAnd the rotten ocean.I stayed kissed and cinnamonAmong the jungle.Of a red fisherman that recovers promises.Of infinite peach, spiritOf the serenities,Entangled lady blood, your kissesDawn into exileAnd a droplet of crystal, with remnants of the sea.Dawn on the shrapnels that wait for youGnaw the nauesous chairs, drown the doors|i salute your sweet-smelling appleAnd envy your verdure pride -- source link
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