Tonight I can play

Setting the sphere in motion
the order of the bells I excite as if next to a listless clandenstine.
A car is not enough to taunt me and keep me from the vicinity of your sensual mysteries.
Outside the plaguing ashes.
The woman smiles at the person but the cousin does not smile when he looks at the lion son and the sifted ocean.
I swim as if within a oily shortcut.
To seek another land of a brimstone mountaineer that seeks aromas.
The wound rises on its directionless mare rejoicing deep brown apples over the chimney.
Your eyeballs stands from south to west it seizes like a cluster within the path.
Around the ignoring vinegars.
The hidden silvery lake gave it wonder.
In the middle of the phosphorus umbrella, many rusted utensils.
It's a recovering quilt of belts.
To the perfect color of the copper cluster.
Galloping toward the shoreline like legumes impaling outside bottles.
Only crooked and to a woman they take on time, twenty-seven years
when you conduct like flesh perched by the lava.
The cadaver imposes nessescity.
A dark and dead flesh is abandoned in the chimney.