intonation enters.
I am a mystic. those briers those barriers those bulwarks. (too much unnormal
too much depletion while one might palm a tarantula.) certain depression. I know
its fame. it shall visit.
raw pain unhealthy
contours raw irritation.
so much a river or
a lake such furious alphabets. too cursed or too blessed while watching hurts;
by delicate entity by raging guts where one is carried away.
it seems vicious by
brink of death as convicted for instability.
I was shunning or
too sly while internalization was a magnet. every gesture a demon every memory
with hoofs or every good day ten more screaming. so close to it so much a
heathen in it so disturbed so choked so devastated.
I would give more as
more was received while so guilty or undelivered.
treasured sewers
gnawed inhalation or nihilism as some atypical comfort. winds odiferous
sound echoing some strange creature erupting.
by sugarcane, trailing tallgrass or eying a small fox.
sure into reception so near it burned while a person is unclean—by filth to
destroy while it was innocence so much a cliff in his horizon.
I would go further, roaming or restitching, in an
attempt to nurture such baggage. a person is tugged, it becomes a decision
where most just know indifference.
I could learn to die or revoke by living or play
timpani to survive.
by gallicas or touching soil a soul tries to
understand. it’s quite normal as to die while cleaving to familiarity; albeit,
normal, a bassoon is blaring, or we ignore our loud raging conscience; such by
polyanthas or restored in an instance, while carrying Polycarp. such heirloom
roses such dark fame as a creature begging for something harmful.
