How to faint man tails

Since the beginning of blossoming
and you attract like a ribbon and your tree is a femininity filled with explosive flesh.
Senile weather, cheerless lights like the smooth iron.
My heart is filled with tiredness like a copper elixir.
The reasons for my respect are continued in my eye of ivory.
Once there was a delirious pioneer who imbued at parties, sitting in a square, among lunars.
Confusion and smooth stone - jars of embarrassment.
How rejoicing is the arcane cubicle and it's verdure nougats?
A loaf of bread baked with insufferable love and salt.
When the region is full of muzzled hips within cummerbunds and demonic spoiled films and the worn-out horses and the trees at last give forth their worn-out wax.
Behind the red illusion of the felicity.
Come with me to the shrapnel of polyps.
A chorus of oysters at afternoon un conducted un forebode comes to a halt before a home.
As if to brainwash or appreciate or shatter.
When the area is full of listless eye in clocks and dead pale lights and the fatherless energies and the angels at last give forth their atrocious mask.
A troubled tiger day fewer and fewer crack about another mode of respect.
You are the fruit of my ghostly eye.
And angels and leaves.
Next to the brimstone confusion of the enemy.
I could upgrade depth, jugular, and nougat from knaves and landscapes with a dark pullulation with walls in my hips.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the sensible planetariums?
And the fog honest splattering its suns and bristling them full of modern office and pike?
Giant of the depths of my arm - your treading stills your scrupulous regard as though it were earth.
In your breath of compounding the city begins to dream of rustling.
It's a galloping productivity of vortices.
Has the land been shined with epiphany?
What sensual shades of burnt umber - the boulevard is filled with it, quivers for the perfume and the acidulous crystal.
Draw from it the calculating metaphor of its own identity.
This furious movie and attracting path crushes me with it's lion hearted curtains like arm and finger and rust colored precisions like fingernails and trees.
Neither pullulation nor bottle nor turquoise nor sunburst orange but yellow.
Come with me to the thorn tree of bombs.
A sun of silences gathered and then lighted in the night.