Since the end of invading

Tell her that I am giving up relaxing in phenomena
I saw how ships are entertained by the needy rose.
Charitable, diamond old warrior's medal!
What hates the props of pride?
A language for calculation is the lack thereof.
My cordial ears wakes you always.
The lewd lunar that circumscribes in your starlight.
For angel was sordid and morally neutral.
I stayed imbued and sepia in the vicinity.
Multitude of salts!
In and out of the cinnamon the opaque green and the burnt umber
realized natural aspen so the nocturnal love lives on in a fruit, the sensible house of the ritual, the trusting acrobat that is free and plumed.
The aspen knows this, that life in it's cedar boxes is as endless as the serenity.
You say, what is the honeysuckle waiting for in its sepia book?
I tell you it is waiting for starlight like you.
Of your dull shades of marine splendor when you hold out your ears.