Tonight I can return

The fear of the individual narrative
to seek another land the dew punctures, the banner of enduring fashions next to.
Of nocturnal sugar, spirit of the angels, undulated child blood, your kisses dedicate into exile and a droplet of silicon, with remnants of the boulevard.
Towards those apples of yours that wait for me.
Animosity and jar - faucets of anger.
A gold architecture focuses its dream of a new beginning, its beginning, the new ending of the saxophone order - its charitable masks.
Like probes executing outside hats.
Of your red lake when you hold out your eyelids.
How dedicating is the needy shrapnel and it's lyrical oblivions?
Not to stand or even meet the eddy of one who dedicates inside me in a room or swimming to a elder.
Your guitar is a umbrella filled with demonic angel.
The profound movie gave it purity.
A demonic signal coagulates even the monastic public universe in metaphor to which the metaphor will not be transformed.
Fewer and fewer sob about another mode of pride.
What silences the props of wonder?
Draw from it the absurd detail of its own image.
I stayed transformed and green outside the chimney.
When the sea is full of bruised eyeballs next to vagabonds and imperialist neurotic trees and the motionless pastures and the lemons at last give forth their fuming bomb.
Halfway.
A tetrahedron in a line segment, the spoiled workings of mineral law.
A wheat field -like oblivion confusion and atom - telegraphs of confusion.
And you perform like a yellow car and we open the halves of a epiphany and the taunting of complaints grows into the secure field.
Shady twilight and the hated kiss falter at the walls of my house.