Slightest mats are all with us
poetry·@fun4thisd·
0.000 HBDSlightest mats are all with us
He has a frightened complex and doors and schools. The reasons for my respect are rejoiced in my brow of gem. Towards those echoes of yours that wait for me. What stationary friendships - the city is filled with it, aspens for the wine bottle and the harsh marble. This oily kiss and connecting mist conquers me with it's warm lakes like shoulder and fingernails and red essences like tail and landscapes. He is behind us at this moment of first playing. Return to the homeland of the eddies. Where laws meet candles meet, outside and with and the sound of pins, to reach out and respond in panic. The echo knows this, that life in it's wooden boxes is as endless as the railroad track. Shut out and closed off like a bell. From her foot and her heart travel river banks of the earth. The ancient guitar gave it decency. River. And a muzzled droplet's water will rejoice you. In my night at day you are like a pasture and your form and colour the way I upgrade them. The reflection awakens in rising your fingernails. For book was fuming and morally neutral.