Compare her rounded body to the sphere
my mouth makes with a vowel. It's the actual
words that are realized, her languid and sensual
motion articulates love. Apprehend the austere
nature of the iris, the flowers are growing where
the water pools. She is taking the usual
words and manipulating them, we have a mutual
bond in this music. The way flowers revere
the Sun and clouds, the weather is the garment
of the heavens. In her I want to bury
my self and cease all of the pathetic movement
I've been obscured by. Hear the trumpets flourish!
Hear her lungs express spirit! She's the instrument
of order in the world despite her luxury.
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