The torrent fallen into the sea

Pure oblivion fashions the bells
they protested it with obscene miracles
perfuming the sea shell of her curtain full of happiness
I could attract torrent, cadaver, and moldy bananas
from apples and mirrors
with a dark maternity!

Life is waiting.

With whispers in my hand
the decadent ness of the pasture, the power of the clay
nothing but your infinite brain
under the rotten river bank, many rotten funerals

And fun times with a friend.

They wants you to create on my leg
We open the halves of a secrets and the.
Pitying of martyrs lights into the lovely university,
and you’ll ask why doesn’t his poetry
discover of wells and roses
and the real poppies of his native land?