Fingers of shadow played obscurely behind the weakened flames. And I, with no premeditation, returned the Shelley to the shelf, unwound sublimely on the sofa, lit up a cig and shot myself. A soul's rhymed r sum shreds to a petaled clause. Adieux to Mallarm . We fold him to a pause.
Objects emerge adrift out of themselves, boil over.
Life rattles like a lift in an express land-rover across a landscape of shuffled with wakeful landmarks high Netherlands, tough Denmarks of pluck and love. All memories lay thick dabs of a paintbrush over a canvas quick with horse and rosebush in hue and dew. Their ruby eyes have no trouble discerning in my hobby a whirring crucible. Our ultraviolet bonds inform the heart with certain violent moments. Let us rather want.