As a torrential downpour picks up the transmissions of acid base,
and worms regurgitate their own bodies toward the upper crevasses of pinned hopes,
We begin to form, not ever so late, our individual plans,
Through adult and backward to wrap a new adventure for the generations ahead,
Entrusting the dangers only to the laughter and replenished victories of our fluid conversations,
Fluidity on its own, distastes such a renouncement of character and being.
What a fling, he would say, as he swats away the incomplete ground and uproariously accounts for the
Magistrate in wait,
Through to the next,
as we whip around blundered 180 degrees of corner and acknowledging the slouched cackling of time's which, we disregard her appropriated, 'woah'
Perpetuity within her crisp speed warp, welcoming in a deeper light, she bats merely all 4,
Within a clash of warned beauty
and a butterfly room for a waiting list,
clasping the thin air in precognitive pleasure ahead,
we see naught we had earned, but what we lived by in our disarmament.
This is a gift, we keep.
One swift note ahead, as though glazed in rapture,
Thus, we onward for lazy Trend,
Alive in their weight,
although shaking off all kinds of chimney,
The bricks accept the 1 mm of their preserved buffering,
are we not here on this Earth,
or are the flights ever so consistent, in their conviction,
Who noticed the compression or the effortless line of never here,
Sustained fine gentlemen,
Freaks go first. Anomalies and psyches' are a mere matter of bliss.
Whomever put 75 mutations among pillars of RNA, should have recognized her uncle's own ability to
be understated.
If we give him one more bout of secrecy, is the list a pressing moment or a forcible op ed...
Let's not glow, but preserve the pressure a bit longer!
What happened to the sun behind her? As a muse inspecting her ability to broaden the simply relaxed, aural temptation of her resourcefulness. Not to brood and promulgate to the next pause of beautified silence,
Merely to end a near perfected chain reaction of space then, again, within space-
Just how incomplete the Universal 11 dimensions, might bring us to a smoothed cover of lightest sand and walking acrossed it,
as a battle of water and ice, fire and crowned gold,
throned in ruminated poems,
The Oratorio whispering, ever so gently laid back with his retinas, and through an infinite loop of grace, and releasing less,
Giving a faith-lit jump over the supposed escapist's viewpoint,
Bettered amongst the final waste- and of worldly charisma- crowded with a love for waiting lines,
Hysteria found her new principality;
and she was esoteric to yawn.
Looking through the corridor and pondering something about flight.
Then it might as well be a lighter, more withstanding bone for the altered terrace,
Juxtaposed only to the breadth and scope of the community around, this refined element,
Perhaps Iron or a clayish lead.
Space is always in her own, belonging here in two- ever so willing-
to the docile fin,
and back through the Oceania,
maybe to hop out of her swimming suit,
to grab a glass of water,
in such an incremented course of rendezvous,
chartering now, higher daughters of hydrogen,
and lighter to Uranium's most mellowed version of photon,
Pixels from within are infinite, finite and hold the same grasp--
A mastery of repertoire would be the spirit underneath you as well,
Remember the Feng Sui for a moment, and you can accept her Room's offerings in full.
If we aren't there, surely we'll climb in to a cloak fit only with lease to a watchmaker.
Gently recognizing, and with only the dancing beatles and aloha trees,
Aim only to reinvent authentication,
your spirit is a gradual kind...
and worms regurgitate their own bodies toward the upper crevasses of pinned hopes,
We begin to form, not ever so late, our individual plans,
Through adult and backward to wrap a new adventure for the generations ahead,
Entrusting the dangers only to the laughter and replenished victories of our fluid conversations,
Fluidity on its own, distastes such a renouncement of character and being.
What a fling, he would say, as he swats away the incomplete ground and uproariously accounts for the
Magistrate in wait,
Through to the next,
as we whip around blundered 180 degrees of corner and acknowledging the slouched cackling of time's which, we disregard her appropriated, 'woah'
Perpetuity within her crisp speed warp, welcoming in a deeper light, she bats merely all 4,
Within a clash of warned beauty
and a butterfly room for a waiting list,
clasping the thin air in precognitive pleasure ahead,
we see naught we had earned, but what we lived by in our disarmament.
This is a gift, we keep.
One swift note ahead, as though glazed in rapture,
Thus, we onward for lazy Trend,
Alive in their weight,
although shaking off all kinds of chimney,
The bricks accept the 1 mm of their preserved buffering,
are we not here on this Earth,
or are the flights ever so consistent, in their conviction,
Who noticed the compression or the effortless line of never here,
Sustained fine gentlemen,
Freaks go first. Anomalies and psyches' are a mere matter of bliss.
Whomever put 75 mutations among pillars of RNA, should have recognized her uncle's own ability to
be understated.
If we give him one more bout of secrecy, is the list a pressing moment or a forcible op ed...
Let's not glow, but preserve the pressure a bit longer!
What happened to the sun behind her? As a muse inspecting her ability to broaden the simply relaxed, aural temptation of her resourcefulness. Not to brood and promulgate to the next pause of beautified silence,
Merely to end a near perfected chain reaction of space then, again, within space-
Just how incomplete the Universal 11 dimensions, might bring us to a smoothed cover of lightest sand and walking acrossed it,
as a battle of water and ice, fire and crowned gold,
throned in ruminated poems,
The Oratorio whispering, ever so gently laid back with his retinas, and through an infinite loop of grace, and releasing less,
Giving a faith-lit jump over the supposed escapist's viewpoint,
Bettered amongst the final waste- and of worldly charisma- crowded with a love for waiting lines,
Hysteria found her new principality;
and she was esoteric to yawn.
Looking through the corridor and pondering something about flight.
Then it might as well be a lighter, more withstanding bone for the altered terrace,
Juxtaposed only to the breadth and scope of the community around, this refined element,
Perhaps Iron or a clayish lead.
Space is always in her own, belonging here in two- ever so willing-
to the docile fin,
and back through the Oceania,
maybe to hop out of her swimming suit,
to grab a glass of water,
in such an incremented course of rendezvous,
chartering now, higher daughters of hydrogen,
and lighter to Uranium's most mellowed version of photon,
Pixels from within are infinite, finite and hold the same grasp--
A mastery of repertoire would be the spirit underneath you as well,
Remember the Feng Sui for a moment, and you can accept her Room's offerings in full.
If we aren't there, surely we'll climb in to a cloak fit only with lease to a watchmaker.
Gently recognizing, and with only the dancing beatles and aloha trees,
Aim only to reinvent authentication,
your spirit is a gradual kind...
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