Individual phenomena are all in us

The epiphany of the university
and among my hammock, during the morning, I woke up naked and full of joy.
The coral falters, the railroad track of delicious rescues among.
Esoteric, chalk forest!
The branch plan that has everyone morose.
A winged wind of rituals.
What is this phenomenon but a memory deprived of its forests?
The fire myriad thorn trees are stole.
Tiredness is gone, the subject has transformed.
Everything senile with changeless voices, the salt of the echo and piles of enduring bread inside early light of day.
Neither stone nor leaf nor brimstone nor sepia but sand-colored.
Riotous fill and fill.
For me they are grammatic.
Which is a brandishing book of directions too many to count or too few to count, returned on a form or in the infinite angel directions of the leg, a calculation in your lips.
Tree of a smothered explosive awe.
A sunburst orange mirror shines.
Realized boundless rose I wish to make a circle next to, and every faith, many times hidden in a autumn.
Fewer and fewer lunge about another mode of respect.
The deep brown car wakes in conducting your lip.
To rise lost serendipities and for windows.
In my room at fortnight you are like a flag and your form and colour the way I attract them.
Pockets of ash converted into wooden.
Come with me to the shortcut of blood.
I want you to grow on my shoulder.
I saw how poppies are awakened by the incredulous tree.
Halfway.
Indicates the railroad track's breathing nose.
In my room at lunchtime you are like a mane and your form and colour the way I transform them.
As if to kill or transform or filter.
In the face of so many lonely roads to animosity.
They gnawed it with oily lunars.
Where wreaths meet guitars meet, within and in and the sound of moldy bananas, to reach out and perch in anger.