Författare: stbg

Sails before the dazzled contours see the all that springs your fire in a certain luminous reigns conveyer

That mute folding seeing the scatters of motion between earth lightning and its nude limits of a life to think of the paralysed sweet visible seductive praise you simulate
The immensity ripples in masses of a welcome, descending in itself between rising

A crystal image hiss that throws an endless wild
against of never bold through this, but foiled within the hollow edge of nightly bright.
I am a streaming ruin when for all with virtue, thick of content having fabled summons pain

Eyes made from stars of diamond gleam
Like bright candles singing from no light
waking their servants

Faceless praise between the bounded possibles of a visible immensity descending like a dark bodily touch of a rising night sun.

I too bend mountains in my palms.
With all my passengers of the subterranean barometric life, and in the will of the future.
And with the sun in my head to make eyes, the yet of no ground with any town, crowns the steps of i do to a woman.
But the wolves in here will always await my forgotten instrument while playing for the shadows.

I am visited in the snowy water drops by a distant here of letters written on a night sky sound i depend on.

Our old internal scented your black shattered tell.
That greedy brew being your intended filled say of light.
In you, on your raven wings of old.
We are merging the crimson flare of clairvoyant skin.

Cathedral woods respond like the immense now and in itself upon you, bounding the within to a single falling leaf and the uncertain morning light dissolved.

The swarm sings some imaginary white in your idleness, alone to the elusive interpretations of the first light crossing the surrounding hour of dawn.

A dark surprised side habit of infinity stretching a chain of hermetic nothing into our moving, crawling all over us on the hope for a preserver.

The soft subterranean transparency of separated stars on dark passes plants the names of those that wear them to become separated brazier curves behind a beating vibration.

Beneath ourselves at the sky speaking to the living birth of plain possession, to the unending face of seasons, I give ways over to the other age of my earthward breathes for keeping the threshold cultivated.

To our noiseless stream of embroideries we feed the alchemy of yesterday with the breath of hollow moons.

The breeze of fatality begins beyond the still jumbled voids filled from earths vast unfolding ocean of dreams.

Old fields rhyme in crops where the city streets hide words with blue nurturing dreams of time in the growing sun.

We are gratefully sleeping to the devoured riddled reflection of might, watching the living conversation flow under old pillars which replace our griefs.

An exhaled vision of an old hour pouring sovereign syllables of random sanity on the pavement to feed the muse with words of water.

With dreams on her cushions deeper drifting in a gentle heart, breathing the enveloped secrets living rays. The whole dozing roses of depths becomes the nothing of memories in immortality.

My eyes is your awakening diamond hymn full of dawn and the servants of my bright noon.

All dead afternoons echoes to the slow prison of my yesterdays sun.

Rumbling the accomplished horrible human doubt in solitude will separate and increase the design of everything allowed.

The change corresponds to an alternation since a diversion increases us farther in here with the image variety of half-nothingness.
I will be obliquely to you, to all that going analogues of reflection.
It’s the us and then there.

Time heaps the sky and counts trees planted in salt when the dense branches tears the flow of covered virtues descending into the fragments of stars in bone and skin.

Chariots of here scales my days of the delicate behind to summon it’s path executed in a serpent possession on the calendar of rooftops.

Imagination in the known bodys certainty often has my whats to the nothing i wanted in most attempts on a necessity at the floating herd.

The sorrows will by a seagull shadow carrying a ghostly coming to the streetlights when the doors of time missing the great look.

We took the positions of our pleasure while it made we smile at you. Of all the open drawers without suddenly turning it to a public square. This was going to bite itself while houses collapse and shining holes appeared in its bed.
We all have staircases that goes on without end while each night blossoming between our shoulders.
With no visible light in here we bundle the inexperience of double burns.

You have no have of myself. Of steps at the rather quite taken where time accounts to no one. I have been replaced back in my steps, out of add to the other.
But i will change my distributed passes of boredom with plants that no longer grief.
I have scheduled this side of me.
I’m reasonable.

To slip into your shadow with my lips behind your moving curtains. Its an escape with its cloak to follow your cover which strangely balances a flame with a breeze.

Perhaps the bare you dawn the coalesce elusive ivy angle where time always swarm my unknown interpretation of presence behind the idleness of a beating bottom.

Things of me appear to collide with doubt and wonder who will fade me on a strange road taken outside of any rhetoric daylight footstep appearing where flesh do unfold the old ground of a closed self.

When i remember the will it starts the picturesque form of not who and disappears inside my paralyzed belongings of the past with beings in the demands of under and when.

I hunt the earth you imprisoned at times when the seasons cultivated the dark evening near with honey.

The loudest doors told the coming which wind will will me still when joy
is carrying the streetlights sorrows.

I hold at yours with that i have resembling the gently hidden public muteness the nights created.

Time hear things before silence light it rich.

My body respect all of me like a stranger.

The black street of wandering among the foolish sky children simply furrows the powers you sustain in a fruit.

A wild stygian knight of garments leaning upon a dark bestial beggar. It is the ghost heros first having of disappointed air.

The obscured void in dreams and of my image hands me the words of
my lost silence by seeing where the desires shape consumes me.

Fragile ways with love descending naively in itself for more to see in a luminous dress far away from the masses
You just fall
Like into the animal sleep without the wandering transparency of that face any crowd wants to see when i simulate myself in them
It is this dark visible space where i have enough of all the gestures,
Of me
I have my sweet seeing on wings of elsewhere in a sad light planted here as i am scaffolding me to a more persistent sun

I’m one filled with distant things
things i hear to be my silence
My remote you, a butterfly
You be me and a voice, a voice
like a word flown in melancholy
It reaches me in the cooling absence of a touch

The dawn harvests the deaf vanishings of the enclosed more in every age with clouded wings of feared cries
I believe the dreaming will age our words in sleeping things
with the sound of the crowd

I will take a sad hour far to build a knew night of constellations
While ignoring other minds singing in me
The joyful unaware of me in the wrong dream
taking the if into the ever present self a knew

I wanted my have of my what because when imagination does words,
a ravishing thread that has it in chains of indifference is speaking
There is an I in pessimism
To say a constant to nothing
A language of flesh to attempt
But i am my well,
the floating necessity of the proven enough