Future chance of trance.

1

Pile of roots dignified seldom more understood as never. Before estranged categories of indemnified alleged patriots sustained files. They dream. Where I am. A sign of freedom as the moon aspires to alleged symphonic display of insane natural function. I consumed the moon to learn. Tease me alleged fortunate synthetic poverty to prevent only good of fondness fractioned into a dream cabinet where no underestimated frog may ever attempt to inform. Me yes I am. You yes you could be who and where. Distance. Pride. Passion. Ignored sentimental adventurous envoy of what is to be called never again. I saw a thousand stars suck me into unintentional absorbed dreams conventionally materialised into what I should have been. Then upon me you are. Without me. This manic witch hunt has come to and end. I am in love again. Pursue these choices to mound the merry maniac with teasing dancing elves bearing no names such as apples do. Inform me without within me. Cushion talk. Prison walk. Leaf dancing prosperous nature with river songs. Casually not intending to presume evil spiritualist satisfaction upon my fragile mind. Learning. Earning. Yearning for unconditional love. No prize for dignity in this timeless dream obsessing me. Book reading is for clouds. Calendars provide illusions of dispensed rational tendencies to observe reality. I could not stand against this dream. This dream owned me and consumed my soul. Petty pretty love hurts again. Longing for disdained pieces of flying rats informally not flying at winter winds. It is cold and blue again. Ask the moon for some fire. Eat would not. Splitting moist weather. Do not attend this informal pitiful state of mind. Where words fret into each other. Mend into a corner stone that bleeds love. Money minds. Suits me fine. This world is not meant for my kind. Adoring lonely moments of solitude in grasp of nothing more than loosing it. My mind for you is yours and mine. Intended pictures of landscapes casually invented to astound pious claimers of invited dreamless word plays into nothingness. As I know you are. Then I know that you know who I am and you left me. Great the immortal coil for it’s woods are full of mist. Cry a tear and the roots will grow. Dreams and goats. Learning forgiveness in a wild abruption of what thought of as friends. Oh yes we were chaos in person. Prevent casual instance of nowhere to go as if all roads closed by a large toad only cares about swimming in the swamps. You know these are what I used to think I was. Infectious sun beams tearing me apart. Music in my head. Sign me what you are. Cleavages. Progress infatuated by tendencies of captivation only to please. What decease? Life at ease. Decrease the property of denial. We abide to our personal freedom. We know what you are is who I used to be when there was nothing but trees. Dream a lonely heart. Care for an insult of fake idealist ventures into progression. Only the insane know what to think of honesty. Then I could no longer ask questions. Picture the vile instant faun running wild in these pretty woods playing a fiddle on a stub. I want this with you and without me there should be someone here. I don’t care. Share materialist sensation as long as we all know no ones live forever. It is not without pity I learned innocence is the fundament of power. Cliffs. Pleading occasional habitual every day lies to know nothing for anymore. This is the shore. Allure. Pure fountain of youth. Look at me I am dancing with the elves. Whomever hear their alluring silent feet as if the moan mist in darkness. Returning fictious feverous thought to decline a loosing mind. No one cares and so you are as me that I am what I should be. Prevent freedom with a conscious wall namely instructions of who you are. For what I am you should be. Since. Prince. Pride and glory. Did we forget to adore life before. Life in it’s gentle core. Lure lore of lost choirs of wind whisper. I sit by the fire. Who awoke the dragon from it’s cave brave. Shun shine ran into the sky. This how you are am I. I found what I looked for then. It was this girl who did not ask where or when but gazed upon me as if I were not of this world. Little did I know she was up for show. Thus for what she gave me I must adore. Sweet. Greet with passion the dignity of life. This holy gift bestowed before us. I know what you are is what I should be. Another time later. This wall of dreams grew greater. Sense these spirits roar about. They sing the song from our ancestors. Well these were as you and I and should be what I am. Passion. Love. Grace. No longer a boy invisible to guilt and shame. No longer embraced by lonely manic fortunate visions of what should be there and therefore as before. Learn to know. Earn to show. Filth and banners to run under should be trees and roots and moon and clouds. I am myself again. You know me as I used to be. A wild boy of another age. Scorned into blazing mechanical impositions of what you have to perceive as how things are. Let me be and yes you are as me.