But momentum, at neck.

To keep on going by night. No break no stop look down everything gets blurred hazy the apnoea eats away stay like this a long time all the time gain ground over the air pattering sparkles the action is catching fire throw your ideas up... the fracture.
Rejection. The experience is in piece. Who does abandon... until not to be able to return... The big glass plaque has raised. You can see everything that could be but the glass is unbreakable. It does not matter, the vertical height has dropped you. Something until everything, is breaking. Who goes after life on a kite in my bed... I no longer see. What, I am.
A fire of rain allows the access to blind alleys, the minutes which have no longer days have an aggravating lenght. I am in a draw brought to life by a big bang. The mechanical logic. Curves of a caress over a past which has never been mine. Ex-terrestrial signals bring the disquieting colours into general use. The exil re-forms, some shadows start an orgy with the instinct for survival.

There are lifefalls that roil us. Refrains that murder.

Make only light my faux pas' shimmers. It's odd a rain under a blue sky. Morning wind blows the small boats, I sail away in this distant sky. My epicentre moves constantly, shunning the crows. But we cannot come undone without dismantling ourselves.
I burst without will the plastic signs, life belts. A laid aside, raison d'être contemplates. We are bordering on the fulfilment of the mellifluous incompletion.

Clear chagrins. I curl up, dark noises mat with me and merge with the chair of my vows. The fear to disappear feeds all the others we are.
The smoke of circumstances gets wet with my arms. And it makes reappear the condensing of life of the others. The square of landmarks thinks it is a boomerang fallen in high branches of a tree, too high. There are climbs that destroy the load-bearing walls.

We fell asleep. It was a method.

No longer high or down, now unity. But mind cannot live without trees.
Are you talking to me, unreal so much lost. Melancolie. It becomes a part of ourselves, stray and out-dated well before to be born. What have you lost.
Luminous lands of solitude, priceless lucidity, incomparable perceptiveness. You like it this clear-sightedness heavy to carry, this forced retreat. You mix the farewell hills with the initial kiss.
An organic protection comes from the cradle of petrifaction. Cradle-shroud. Forced opposites, counteracted mirror energies. Our provocation for stationary unbalance.
Monochrom visions are the origins of the system, the protection one. Irony and logic. Would you be bitter. Yes, I've tasted the bitterness of your dark blood. Rejected world, it will seem to reject us too from its process.

The music dies too. Who does write only the rest. We still can go by the inner side, the passion remains. Then the wall trains you and as nothing is lived and created from the outside, you stop. I am your parallel alternative life. The part of the other whole.
To find the crib for the test, which disturbs at last the laments...

I wake up bitten by the impure side of the unsung thuths...

I want, you can.

So the petulant shore is yawning, it is pale. It is the entrance into the aera of impossible. The loneliness of you was alien and impossible. A strike of open scissors into. Everything was, not enough. Accept is a nonsense, exit of the word.
Kingdom of fixed time, where time has only a face of a whimsical child who refuses to move forward when we would like so much that he goes quickly.
The insurmontable idea. Obscur dazzlers in front of your eyes... dangerous and useless butterflies of the loaded memory. Trigger intrigued with torment.
The places was yours, my gestures. Everything betrays an absence, the past presence. Sidelong devil of oblivion.

Where you are no longer, you were. There.