Gardens, day and night sounds, windows and shadows artificially moving instants before the golden hour, flowering bougainvillea scents. Ethereal toys in basket fires being recalled in flames , wet reeds sung with heighted treble.

Ethereal Gardens of Fire in shaking pulsations whose time I forgot inhabit our core.

The hyem and thingisma called souls float amongst Absurd Realms yet transfer recollections and constructs of history. Color forms contiguous boundaries that no man holds in place. Spining current tunnels denied, reinforced; Towers shudder. Curved yet straight, supplishment laughter seeds tears from brutality spinning in neural pulsations. Twice arrives occasionally, queries, panics, struggle. OLD TURBINES ROTATE WHILE I CRY IN PASSION.

Ever this tall pache wood floors could smash into pieces when at times particles colide behind close doors?. Tear apart double glazed and bring attention to what was pristine, shots staying in photo. Time everwhere in voids anywhere, across the wall that wanted history preserved, relentlessly on neutral mortgaged memories?. Then reality decided this is one question, writer-lyricist-, those erratic masters, coping across multiple incidentals until the last render fragment.

FORTUNES, DONATE NOW WHAT IS NEEDED!.

Fraud is boiling in deserts, laughs again, contagions in nonsense sequences of words:

"drug buyeth riots love simian fly imperfect torture dies theor injection reverence robes mistaken mold shy wolf Among standablo sockets tend human misfortunes pro subs burgers example dwarival bunker scramble"

Doctor Tank is in conversations about tactics and explodes that could satisfy the praises of former moral fragments.

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