Even as the petals roll down the shouldered bolders, holders of the lost composure..
See it, carefully drawn to the creator’s diagram.
Misunderstandings of shapes, conscious, varying to the creator’s underline and detour.
What more, Sergent Galore?? Hold me, breathless. Screams of the essence.
In the grip of my hand, sand grains tremble under criminal demands.
The watchtower, guardian of the eyes. Finical of the lies.
Assembling, assemble, is scourge of the pat book-bag humble, or FuMbLe?
The stereotype, judgmental stereo, Aeriel is variable TO TO TO…
Fairy tales and scarcely pulled veils via pool Of oF Of..
Deadly schools swim in sequence of of of…
Under stools that sunder ancient fuels, under the sun, suns, sun.
Open what they closed, never will they worry.
The curse of leaderless pack, never bearing memory thus of.
~That Dude Eddie~
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Love and Peace.