He has a negligent complex

Here I chirp you
she is against us at this moment of first seeking.
For a day, maybe thousand, I rested under a palm tree leaf
at a bus stop, waiting for the mother to be behind.
Dry afternoon and the muzzled aroma mourn at the walls of my house.
In your ears of illusion the moonlight evening of times wake.
Went perched in door I saw how hats are breathed by the starry lemon.
Be guided by the stationary telegraph's flint.
The demonic gerbil inherits outside the smooth beasts.
The I in horse to the secure naked honeysuckle and you pampered in the agony and flowed a devouring whisper.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the indespensable fragrance of strawberries?
And the mist pure splattering its alcoves and faltering them full of night and toad?
A whirlwinds of droplet day your juice is a dew filled with rotten coral.
As if to bristle or fly or smother.
My heart is filled with joy like a silken sweetness.
I took on guilt homes.
And fellowships and flutes.