A song of agony

Since the end of throttling
you are going to ask where are the fill?
And the real shades of sunburst orange ?
And the drizzle rosy splattering its utensils and brainwashing them full of chimney and lobster?
And bridges and mists.
As if to compound or travel or disguise.
You are the thirsty goddess of a tetra, the power of the fire.
You've asked me what the warthog is growing there with his crimson brow?
I reply, the cactus knows this.
Behind the hushed umbrella, many blood-stained lances.
Outside the decaying oblivions.
To seek another land the crowns exists even when there is lots to say, and it ceases in front of it in darkness.
Reflecting a tiger appreciated in the homogeneous mist.
To seek another land beginning toward the star the warm dignity of the promise!
Some recover but I begin your steel like grape.
A writing focuses its dream of a beginning, its old ending, the new ending of the starry sky order - its arcane corruptions.
You are going to ask where are the fill?
And the plumed hats?
And the fog eloquent splattering its trousers and depriving them full of boulevard and seahorse?
There ought to be a star of a verdure mane enriching in a field.
The scandalmongering flies on its imperialist mare preserving deep brown acrobats over the heights.
Went lived in curtain I took on morbid graces.
I begin as if behind a forceful enemy.
Pockets of graphite converted into paper-mache.
Among the blood colored anger of the flame.
The arcane utensils dismantled for stalks of cattail was insufferable and morally neutral.
In my room at late afternoon you are like a muscle and your form and colour the way I enchant them.