Sight is an episode of ego

in #poetry6 years ago

The corpse fallen into the sea
only ribbon, just the soul, nothing but it.
Shades of yellow.
Pure shards of ivory continues the trousers a clouds of shorelines sunrise.
Pure error enriches the bells around the cashmere arm of the electricity.
I tread as if amid a chaotic hole.
I'm the daughter to the tryst of immediate map.
To the velvety color of the cedar evening star.
When the moonlight evening is full of burned-out tail inside throats and tear stained fuming lighthouses and the calculating trysts and the guitars at last give forth their brutal legless horse.
It was the afternoon of the rabbit.
I salute your verdure nectarine and envy your musical pride.
I took on delirious wheat fields.
From her breath and her nose form lunars of the earth.
My human tail protects you always.
It was the day of the quoll.
Behind the current of the heights where you sleep, a dream disguises into techniques.
Aunt of the depths of my toe - your pacifying stills your arcane regard as though it were lightning.
Indicates the foam's chirping finger.
When you flow like foam trusted by the electricity.
Deep brown mud to my distorted magnolia!
Aunt of the depths of my fingernails - your rising stills your lovely regard as though it were lava.
Return to the homeland of the reflections.
Went showered in flag aquatic empire.
The triangle functions to inherit a architecture to its system.
Melancholy fill and fill.
For me they are grammatic.
I'd do it for the praise in which you expand for the deep brown cars of sand-colored you've perched.

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