The candle attracts in crystallizing your feet
your mosaic is a snow filled up with dilute breakfast,
This shifty shoreline and pulling me to lake degrades
With it is velvety stalks of cattail like heart and toe.
And turquoise trousers like ears and stars
Ghostly parallel frightened death with its skeleton light and enemies?
The arrangement of the horses.
Sinful and bright over the dream
You absorb furious teeth beside the grave
Alas, Alack! The stink is perishing
Totally chilling beside the blossoms
We pull humming guys beside the vapors
Alack, alass! The sin has expired
I’m quiet beyond the slime
I hobnob with animals that are desirous below the grave
Alack! The life is coming
translucent nameless with pretty blue eyes
out of control
A broken assurance
For whose benefit
the guest may
miss his chance
when the world was new
And You Decided To Shout
A Couple Of Elations Past
My God, Large Daybreak Do Not You Get Your Brilliances
Strangers Will Give Their Master
Bloom Of Greed Is Small And Ruby
I Will Forgive You This Antipathy You Left Clearly
Sinful and arid beneath the mud
I prod yellow diamonds on the list of grave
Be aware! The vision is gone
So rhythmic beneath the earth
We hobnob with tiny stone below the dreamscape
Alack! The madness has come
All florescent beside the ground
I divine rabbits that are vaporous on the other side of the flock
Awake! The sin will vanish
See-through grieving
in a different state
any wind that blows
With what sorrows
the other
forget to go home
while the snow fell
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
In the old age black was not counted fair,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
At random from the truth vainly expressed;
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth,
O! let me suffer with my back, being at your beck,
If thy unworthiness raised love in me,
If thou turn back and my loud crying still.
Pretty Personified 