She strolls heavenly amidst

The creative overbelly – these trample-thorn seas have been washing immediately within all of inescapably persuasive She

I walk so slow for now –

Please tame the ghosts inside of my head that run wild and wish me dead

And We feel it all, every next sensuously placed piece,
Rearranged til prearranged at massively fabricated breakneck speed

Seems We need to press ourselves
To value each of these inundated aside rather individualistic instances

Shelter-line stretching
right ’round the Bundoran bay, just lean in ‘n’ listen

To what She has to whisper and suggestively say

These worn-out raptor grasping waves seem to be, calling out our behemoth names and they seem to strenuously be leading us home

Feeding all of the gregariously stressed better parts of carefree, settled-at-heart We

At face-paced value unto ourselves, indeed
Unto only ever her courageous self, per say it exactly how it has to be told

Unfolding twisted blissfully amidst while these rocks explode to corrode – imploded within folklore-told history

Til creating to make
All kinds of Northern Star here-we-all-are sense again
Permitted oh so goddamn reawakeningly
Against

So long honey baby,
Time to flee aside flagrantly see… this brilliant wicker-pour storm form

To thistle-torn touch your silkily unmentionable lips and unforgettably warm

Til worshipped serenely, wicker-bridge silently within… every each next piece of perfectly imperfect
We

Let me die where I lie, beneath the curse of my lover’s eyes

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