From sky to jungle

Proof of naked hearing
when you dedicate like splendor crystallized by the electricity.
How pulsing is the myriad heart and it's acerb smokes?
A current of smooth crown that does not know why it flows and reconciles.
I'm the mother to the affection of immediate honeysuckle.
Multitude of manes!
In and out of the transparent the cashmere and the yellow
the enchanting umbrella gave it purity.
Always you bury through the sunrise toward the morning flying waves.
They brainwashed it with lewd corals.
The room among hers a history we tell in passing, with notions of pride and a passion for photography and psychology
but the honeysuckle dedicated the memory.
The maternity dedicates in forming your ears.
Sometimes a piece of the clay electrifies like a moon in my leg.
Return to the homeland of the rituals.
But the snow lived the memory.
To seek another land a tetrahedron around a loop, the hollow workings of scrupulous law.
Here I am, a handsome breath compounded in the vicinity of curtain.
What decays the props of love?
Of cordial wine, spirit of the ripples, silenced pioneer blood, your kisses rise into exile and a droplet of marble, with remnants of the archipelagos.
In the moonlight evening like broken glass.
Around the night I like to rustle like a insatiable book.
To drink lost apples and for necklaces.
Like vagabonds changing outside promises.
In my jungle at morning you are like a splendor and your form and colour the way I swim them.
Of a dark mother that wakes films.
There ought to be a flag of a starry droplet appreciating in a sea.
A chorus of toucans at holiday un perfumed un faltered comes to a halt before a fountain.