We stand tall. The unforgotten sun. Crowding in the walls. She not told the truth. Of days in harvest moon. Standing bout in arms of empty moments. Creation. Hello, do not forsaken. The truest being new. Stuck by hollow weapon. Created by the creel in doorway. She did not hold in moments true, the child ever lasting.

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Otherwise uncanny,

A dress in short shoes,

And a drained thing left of you.

I don't speak,

to be heard,

I speak to see.

There isn't steps abound in midnight,

which held in air desolate but few,

and eyes between sunshine.

When in that great horizon,

squishing my arms,

I bend in two.

Slept in at night,

A shallow morning slumber,

Crescent ...

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I do not like my green eggs in ham,
I do not like it,
Sam I am.

I cannot be told,
Of moments fleated,

I cannot be guested,
To move freely.

Nor the trumpet play,
The thing between two nostrils,
To simply let me be.

In each tone another whisper,
Of the thoughts which we,
Another mistrial.

Keep in charge the moment distal,
And tongue it out,
Retracting steps.

I am in contr...

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