Cactus silk
Limestone
Pigeon poop
Grey clay
And 4-5 days

The Rif
14th century, 17th century
Cedarwood
Fatima
Water

Drops, abit of an ancient maze.
Puzzles. Degrees and sepwration.
You focus, your aperture.
On the poster

The mad, are shipping
In a, separate lens
Fleets of fleece as long as
Earls suspended.
You focus, on the cups of the king
Abyssinian, demands. For the flowers of eternal gain and flame.


Routes, on lines.
Parks, faded
Into . Grey. Monochromatic cut.
Swaying. Curls. Of whirling seeds
Gleam, the lean twigs of trees




The concept of illustrating a cycle. In repetition, of looking inwards. Realisation no set boundaries of existing, in a fluid yet concrete state. Karmic cycles intertwine with the concept of weaving. Cubes are sensitised with rods, electrical current


A (harbouring) angel
Ejected the disk safely for its race, its shuttle.
awakening flair, lights its place
spilled intents for the faraway

Stranded in seaports,
Ditches of violence the behemoth rises from the sands, un veiled support.
The runaway please don’t come my way
Culturally up rooted and flocks away
The Outro of incandencense, holding a blink awaiting for poetic lies.
A child would be clear, mirrors. The half opened windows, the slanted edges of steps. The strong gust cleansing the backseat.
two flights too bright

Take a light and congregate each mind
Mending the bend in an abyssal state
Yearning a tenth no tour too sure

A lasting fringe,
On the edge of brie, takes two to blink.
tapping unsound footsteps. Rooting for uncharted air in a strange fare.


A lip in Essarouia
Euphoria contained
The gathered marshes, an escapade.
Scents of July. Remains of August.
Wicks and bricks, tangerine daydreams.
World scaling, balances the income avalanches.
To the inner heart

Now I am a focaccia in morocco
A proust poem. A broadly crust,
crumbs of ants. Kant is alive and well
A solar orbits the shoes of sprinkled floors.
territory mix platter splatter. The view is well.

The following of the shepherds pie. Flat ironed out in the restaurant of sinned souls. A city of sky scraping floor cleansers. The lime and lemon. The mask of obligatory betrayal. The languages of the mind and kind souls. How helpful would less personas be. Beehive behaving invitational irrational excrements. Dangling heels and meals would support penalty and remedy. Translation in relation. A restrained opportunity, uni crucification. In a water of reflective lenses. Sprouted beans. Growth of wheats. In peans. Of peace and desire. Of reprise and rise. A sullen soul would meld the iron. Sing a Reprise to heaven and a crow would space out into the intoxicating metallisation of realisation.

A donA conA ton A RonA rumA drumA strum
Chilled con artist
WouldInviteA KiteBitea knife.
An apostrophe forthe circle



Haste the virtuality,
De pose the shimmer
Green scopes of red

ricewood valleys of red, greenery in the fields, from ashes to flashes of distant memoirs. The sandy plains, red rocks fleeting into an inexhaustible brain of rivers and cranes.
To surpass yourself, conscious decisions
A self, a vigilant note,
Shoes and limbs that grounds ones pull.
To maintain flow and in the current
adobe

Clouds percipitate, into jugged alleys of acid.
Mist among all that can be seen. The flames are set ablaze,
the torso is set through the pin pointed maze. Two moons agree not to relate. The solemn forest awakes with fresh mint carried by the chirping Birds.

A rotting lord is attracting flies.
Attention for glided incantations
The nosy, lousy mind of the own.
Would drift and wander. In a petite dress laid beside are
Bowls of chicken. on the hand, reversal of the matrix. A familiar family , would relive ghosts of the past.
20 minutes ahead, 10 minutes behind. Attention all passengers, to board different countries. Am oasis,
in segregation.
Pm Dissemination,
market flock its wares.
.

Flames ablaze.
Your torso set on flames.
The two moons they would relate.
The solemn forest wakes, of deers, and stags.
Fresh mint set on fire, a reattributing, fervour. Fire and cold ice.
The message is woven, underlined in the red and green, twin stripes of the carriage way. An empty seat in the middle, a swinging sympathy for the devil, the kindness that brings the rain. stamp of light from your wings of desire. Sine. A desert of trees
There is an infinite amount of Loopers. Pistes, and guardians pf life. Grown straight from the soil. The unrelenting cycles. Of apologisation, a four grown by the eight, a reign of the freign. For every gesture would be marked down by shades, of passing on the train, a shadow of light. Takes a long hit for the mind to process, kids, fishing and finding joy in the rain, a thought of regress in the empty seats. Its perseverance withering away. Each spoken word, each mouth, and each iris, an antagonising loop, tethering orbit.

A moroccan breakfast would consent of, a hum of the bees, honey agave, flies of honey from the mountains, a straw herb. An attention loop, of gestures. Picked from the til filled streets, of salads and stars of hummus olives.burritos of fleshly fresh pickled coriander burpees, some vitamin c, enough for jelly fishes not to sting you thrice.the hair, the facials, rather take a gander at the gate. Then to experience life, the right of passage, light on life, reflecting cascades. A bright church of light shone from Ali. Spices and mint, dislocate the problem. Varicose veins would choke the seventh hell out of artichokes. Herbs peppers, dizzying tanginess burnt out of oranges sunny orange skies, blisters and skitters, a tanging away from the chicken, a vegetable so drought that it requires 5 yellow olives, one red snapper.the sizzling sun, a place for bones. The sweat is right, left resting fairway. A forked jar, a barked war, indivisibly divided. Movements of ways.

The bliss of traveling, the need to open up. A snot, them tender roarings, a display for framed windows, a widened play rope and fishing nets. A bargain, a evolvement, as nets terrorises a need to breed. Multiple backgrounds alight in the scene, a search for the lore of origins, the rope that thickens. Sway and shy away, of a stampede of particles, of a chimera chiming its skin. A kiln, the refusal of an abolished tarantula. Throwing a net, nut and stampedes of a vegetarian Strat, of referendums, the shoes scratches its divisible and multiple paths of intersecting guises, the weaver, fear to let myself down. The raided Cameron, of vessels, swinging trees of lullaby. The wind conceived, transponded to a transponder. A migrant of aubergines raid the cabin. A test done in a swabbed spectrum of coloured jars. Disarrayed thoughts, every man on the scene. Testicles tested. In a rush no more. Up the mountains in the cabin, a wayward ship. The sounds of the snake charmers is universal, otherwise it only falls. In a downward spiral. Portal snippets, of deep shallow, obscure breaths, corona contact, a pact signed to deal and receive, the numbers stray amiss. In a caravan. Looming and blooming. Aside the mountainous shiny mirrors of tinderboxes. Speed restricted, fart loudly into the beveled fabric of the seat. The exhalation if guaranteed. To keep the words from collapse. The birth of an instant photo camera. Studying way of life, a spiral of belongingness, a home with no family. Tires, granary bloomers, loopers in a fruit market we lay beside bridges. Wondering souls sounds, the hum of anti culture desks, a guardian, performing centralised leg press. An unusual and steady blend of magnetised cocoons shroud together, rise in shantytown. A roller coaster of dioramas. Incorrect. Zamartas and stares and tam-tams. A friend, a brother, thank you. The bells they ring and bling. Hush away blown away. Into your private abound abundance, a raffling bird, enters a tunnel of turd, an encampment of enslavement. Egg tarted bells of overly, colouring penne. A thing, raspy raspy, sinews of shades of pink.

The halos of moons tows the bells, for well and beyond, suddenly shudders of interchanble moments, an exchange of 40% salt, sautéed mushrooms in the gastro pipes of palaces beings, a twangy, awesome vibrance beyond crescendos. The rooftop had been a niche place.
To be displayed, as an act of an act. If kids would behave, as seen and not seen. Kids and kids, to fuck or not to fuck. A poet a poem would not suffice, the sacrifice. A whiskey, sour, to be accompanied, by a fare fair gift, to a lady. Back home, lines of poetry to be given away, a blend of passion beens tangle tiles filled with love, sandy beiges in a square without a view. A guest encounter is a sudden coconut. A swim,beneeath the tired seedlings that would wonder and contour. A student of the minds, a haven for havens. Along in the broom of the room. A whisker, a tinker and a key, eccentricity. Out of storeys, cactuses. Surround the plains, a seal of the mind by a generous spirit, apart of square will be blessed beyond belief, apart the square entailed by folks, folklore reveleade to the sets. whisks. Egg white and egg yellows. Dear Zelly, intertwined with flour whisks and bowls. To be astray, out of space, enlightenment rings.

A sign, a signal a movement to escape, competent with the enrolment, to understand a locality, a boundary, fear its sign. Of energy synergised into an olive, double whammy bars.

Which vegetable would you prefer,
In the preface.
Of galvanised, glossaries, words into stone. A brink, a blink of brie. A pick.
A lady with a lamp, fingers that entrail.
A wise man in the desert, points the way in the carriage,
The left, the front, and right. Pickled tooth pickles, in white, not knowing a meaning behind actions.

Connected dots, and a light of foie gras, the son of a sun. the quicker paced movement on a roulette, pollutes the opulent opulent of slow movements, the mirage, the huge, the large, and pops of the tart

An extended personnel. In a presence of swamped, murky waters. A chervil, a space rock and moon orc appears.
A linkage of sounds, an wandering tale, the cough of the man, a uravelled tail of urinary tales. An open space. Vessels that carry emotion. To feel a certain pressure, a pre, reading of the reader. Two feel a certain guide in solid defused motorised sponge of wax and clay, a duality, bringing the best of the east, the beet of the kick, an eden, of sheltered perspectives, the forbidden fruits of the sour, wayward diesel.

Another trace, a tangoing to remember by, sounds of yes and abs in a different city, a lightning, faint light of the cevich. A Nosferatu distinguished fire extinguisher to set alive, a burning wick, no wicker, a hickory. Splash on the wayter of dragon flies, a brie, spilled, the benefactor will be lost, the scape for a curtain sprouted drew, a frown. A farway loose knotted leaf. Swearers away beneath of behemoth of a sub. Downright out of sight.

The page starts empty, a heaven have, breathing in the pure sounds of keystrokes, a scale, a benign story. A reign of fear and violent amorphous, an inchoate. Magnification of the Rudy.

The cemetery.

Irrevocable souls gather. In a terrain of malefaction. Cauterised blisters on thumbs of coins. No saint would be able to withdraw from its field of view. Bound to eternal beatitude. Awake, among the dead, footsteps that crumble the alloy of polished brio of life. A death in circlets of circles. It advances, dancing through cauterised necks and endless formulas of competitive makeup, an gulping of fabricated swamp gas, a butane. An Bunsen burner enough to burn the room.new unrelenting sounds, forces the egoless, and the mundane roach. The canny mountain roads. Grievous hounds, out to crucify the acute, cobra grace.conducted in focus. YY. The faraway mountains of bamboo factories. Shifted pitched drums, of amazonian strumming and the blistering heat. Boundless add an impetus emotion. the tobacco scorns its master, banded tallied cash checks, pinkly shelf of Sunday farina. In a marshalled stockpile. As it is belvidised, initialised. Allow the gust of the northern winds to infiltrate the hyperborean.

I would bring a joint, for re-enthrallment. The flies they bring vexation, to my brothers family, of an indweller of the wild. With adequate trees, to herd his sheeps, a family of four, connecting to disengage.

Mountainous fossils, signs of the cloud, specialities bring in properties of prearrangement. The gauge tracks belongings of inclined protuberance.

A wild eucalyptus prays in the deserted frowns. Of a tiramisu iceberg, a shallowed water, a depth of field. A motif of cinematic. A gaze that is worthy to be bestowed. The four characters, the criss cross. An emerging dilemma. A mirror of actions. A hotplate worth engaging. A steel tempered knife. Cuts through bitterness and butteriness. An excursion of the soul. A molten liquid of automobiles. A underpass. Of push and pull, an entailed meadow that flow through smothering quantitative stew. On time that goatees unite, brown gemstones that merge the stir.

A prisoner on the run for itself, the ego attempted dissolvement. Into kindness, an exile of the self, solitary confinement of fees, the Morocco Sundance deserts the will of being. The taste of mud, trails of longing, losing. It is, or not to be, an vasty, oaty kiln of bread , drought terraces of vegetation, a drilling spin, that differentiates what has been long gone from the knackers.

A hornet, aside from the fog
By the plains..movements by movements til the act is over. Estrangement, especially on a monumental sentimental value. A strange spiral, out of the blue. Still stuck, out of translation. The lively estrangements of arrangements. Tales of men and women and bees. The ultimate goal is to be set on the maximum release plains. The segregational forces kick in once again. The proust is missing, the generative forces, of the universal movement. A ensemble of speech power. A loudness of unauthorised movement. The most serene stories only play out in your mind, as disintegrated loops of originative nature. Flows come and go, such entrails to act upon. The birth of sin. Stabilising the spin

The rhubarb turned into a dish. It became a fish and dissipates, into the swaying night. Encounters, sway lights that shine in green tinted night. A memorable bark reflects on a four headed fork, beyond its mercurial movement is a lighterman, shining a hue of tangerine and salmon. meanwhile, A plastic takeaway spoon has been auctioned for 50 million. In the aid for sprouting trees. The trees support and rapport the hums and gulp. Its horns fractured, why does it need to be seen it asks, a basic need for love, and to tow and feverishly drag its way. Thinking for the worst. the mind glazed by honey still sitting in a deadpan show. The agave nectar triggered its sense of longing, a zinging ting. Four squares of reservoir, that erupts gold in the storehouse. What is money for, what is an album for, the joy of the people. Mammals, people, ordeals, ideals. Laced in craft. One person, one oeuvre to navigate, through a concrete maze, built spiralling inwards, forwards and downwards. Faraway in a castaway disc, some bicycles was caught in the eye of the storm. Hiding in and out of sight, its scope pointed towards the asiatic blue and teal bamboo roof. Different sounds are dealt and spelt out, in a card tray. The DJ gives away a part of its soul. found archived conversations, and conserving an album of voices. Flickering ash. multiple sound snipers dressed in sunni attire in the blazing heat exposed its reticle of seven colours. If there is any love it can be found in the cordialness the inflamed tonsils. Some swamp lamps, drenched in a particular white wax. a pinch of sadness in the air. Thick ropes hanging down, each cock shout to the sky and each cock shouts back. A take, a tale. Iron arms that beams a sort of craziness. the flossed glass, meeting the hens eyelids. Legumes made from sea breams formed a complete platter of generative stress. the tattoos on his body began to ride his waves. The maroon tablecloth rippled and and diverged, like the Adriatic Sea. Its coloured waters waver, as mutated creatures emerge, a mausoleum of beans. A spread of jams, branched air mints. a full trip. A flashing ignition. Aperitif for an endless scene. A construct of its singular establishment. A maze attached with dual blades. amplification of waves. Multiple journeys to re induct some pipelines away. The sea waves form a double crescendo as it cradles the rocks out and into its way. mum tatted onto its cranium. A necromantic, oracular prophecy yet yet yet yet yet yet to be dispatched. Miso mausoleum, coco perlite, such is the reign of the king, fagged and dumped in the tray of being. the stair was coated in fur, a jammable night light, a fortune tellers not far away. The lion retraces its prey, following the footsteps of the deer. cosmic insomniac jars sit tight underneath the tables of wonder. The heliotropic seeds vents a florid aura. Every persona, eerily gazes to the triangular structure rising upon mites that install itself in granite. Askew, ask kew. Deplorable encounters. Afflicting honey jars. Sipping wine, negative reactions of shells and corals.

Twas a magicians type of night, wondering aslant. The miniature figs form almost a membrane of collective vision. A submarine, pulsing its way through areas of diligent flies. The palms blend neatly with the shadows on the sandwiched walls. Zig zag patterned tissues surround the hand to the entrance. Cough, cough deep inhalation light up matched tinderboxes, fire making lively seedlings.

The multiple senses have decided to collide, (with black and white lenses) . A semi matte red table cloth, sending special stars into imprisonment on the astral plane is placed upon diluted particles. A rag doll sits in silence, alone in a state of silence, a light simmers down from through the overhead trees. The unoccupied sun beds is heated up, like an oven. The scene delineates to the depths of repulse bay. Loans into loans out to the vanguard. There are choices that the dragon has to make, mud and Mullen appears. Some faraway cities floats on the dispersed ambient waves. Four walls surround the outcast. A cigarette is lit under the produce of a poisonous coconut tree. A trio of musketeers appear in rio, they are chased by water depleted clowns in a caravan. Meanwhile, Eucalyptus tea is poured into the gas tanks of the caravan, which ran entirely on fossil fuels. The red taxi meets with the green taxi and is driven by a man with a blue hat. In multiple turns, the roulette spins, marked on it are graves, tombs cemeteries of grace. Birthplaces of a unknown saint. The plains faraway appear as a monochromatic green, it has the appearance and feel of home, only in unravelled places the passenger disembarks. The planes and jets they scurry away through heightened aeons of time. I still dream of that girl I used to know. Some great warriors rode home victoriously with curved scimitars, among the entrance to the gates they look zingy as athletes who scored you goals. The past is always present with gifts wrapped in tree leaves.

The feathers are scattered now, silk winding down your laced scent of verbena. An incense burning out, misty silver haze. You realise something other than life is buried in the womb, A coil, cowl wearing archer fires drumbeats of steady pulsed vibrations towards scarabs lingering around.

Towers, going round and round, climbing the linguistic barriers segregating the human race. A flood is imminent, the barriers that separate beings are conquered through, unity in a sphere. Look into the two palms of the angels, then ascend into a dream. as the crusaders tongues are tied. The act of walking in circles, resolves the mind maze.

The garden in the city, is an act of statue ing oneself, as an imprint on the now. Its a zone of its own. Where pride and ego is diminished, the builder keeps on stacking adobe, in which it is laid in the sun. an insatiable dream where ants attempts to escape. Flies. The defenders at the garden realises that there is no prey after the relic is drawn. The faraway traffic crossing the holy site can be heard and seen from behind bars, the wilful imprisonment of the tyrant results in a conversation, the foggy mirror is laid onto the grass. Twigs they form a hint, partnering with tree barks. Information always engulfs our existence forming tomorrows, tomorrows, tomorrows.

The light has shone in from the temple church skies again, the two horsemen wields two pickaxes in their hands. The gun that shits flames, fire two flares of effulgent orange peel. The intensity of connectivity stringed the musical happening together. The midst hash smoke, set Avernus’ blaze, into a blue coil. The chins and arms that set ablaze has remembered the trip a length. The red rider, carries a passenger in its back. The baby wrapped in stable fibre. 5 aisles away. The concrete maze extends its length. Friends fries and sets. A keeper and arranger for the composer. A furry tarantula regains its pulse. In a distant cafe a UFO disk arise. A shame, slimy balls, exposed on grassy plains. The gassy sounds had triggered a sense of love. A pickled sandwich, in plains. A freckled rise.

The breads holds an anthropologic stance, had retaken its place in the mausoleum. The Python runs the marathon with a snail, some gingham biscuits attracts bees going further in life, the satellite plains, are of au lit, and black and white mosaic. The metal petal, has the insignia stamped on the goats horns. The Iberia summer calls for a horn sounding loud in the corner. The annunciation. Stings like a wasp spot. Its guts spilled out, fluid movements drag mud, in a sinking hole, ode, ole, ale. To be drank.

The performers stand in a specious composition. Ashes of the echoes of cashews, had set the memories in wake. A rapid snore intrudes. The glass walls and wooden tiles, set as the roof of the “house”. A sprouting leaf extends into the ancient embankment, preserved by adobe jam. Woof meow, sounds of a wham!

We Continue to adrift, some bearers of physical sensations arrive at the ashtray wasp. Tightening its grasp onto the veiled species of lizardlings. Mist protruded by a faint gust, besides a police stop built by paper cache. Four Pairs of converse sneakers are burnt. A sprinkle of focaccia, bliss and glossed, into a free glide. A petite soldier receives kisses from the unknown one. Startled by the knitting, the boat surmises the curse. In a borrowed curse. The dip of the kiss, strayed in the bottle of missed dews. A benevolent reverend is singing church music. No one is talking about ashenedlock sealed tight, Broadcasting humans to stay away, no one is looking, as someone is talking. The binders begin to land and lend. The excursion has turned into a reality of digitised excursion. A signalled mimer. The journey set on the path is pinpointed by big headed pins. An extended paw reached out of the mosaic windows, if there’s no comparison we are the same. The blame game has been shot, centred by the assistant. Fish fingers linger as the Marrakech wedding winds away. Go left for a mile, smited kisses. Meet the jury.

Depended, respected, reported, the water is suspected to cause poisoning of the goats, the goat posses a pearl shaped beard. There is Pear jammed into frames of unsounded myrtle sounds. A clear pitched sound evolves into the sound of murky and melted cheese. The lilac forms a mosaic of patterns in dub. Half of the boat is cursed, said the preacher. The curious scavenger repents as its hit points are at a critical deteriorating state. The roots of the tree of life extended into cyborg space. The milk coloured frames screech loudly into an ear canal. The broken compass is unedited and should be re-built by a master craftsman. Injected self reject into the veins that rise from your sensitised skin, a wavering float. Should always keep a mask on for these occasions the voice says, it reminds me of when Essaouira was a place where fishes are fish and birds are birds. Bearded herbs form a charm to be worn, barbaric bricks of smooth edges dries themselves in the sun.

The score is misunderstood, in a scene three musketeers plunge head into toes. Different sized shoes extend extend the legs unto the seats in front. Candle toned fairies encircle the medina, away from the media. Segregated still. Witnessing all scenarios and dead ends that could be panned out. A unilateral decision shaped the mountain paths in this area, thus it is submerged within the cube of the times. Picturesque silver blanket the sky, sheltering pedestrians with a veiny blue.

An order, exaggerated into old frontiers… again ? > suppressor on the .45. Messy demeanor. CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITICAL CRITIAL KLATIAL KLATIAK LAKLTIAK LATKAITK CLRICKRL KCLRIKR LCKLRIKC LKLRIKRL KCIKRL KRICKLRK ICKRLCKIRKLC. Rhythmical tapping on the ribbon mic, calming calming calamity.

Ideals for a repeated order, repenting depending on relentless mind waves. There is some room to breathe in the corner if you’re not cutting the edges, harvesting bloom. Your turn to run into images. To be dimensions that are applicable. Travelling for supplements. The sea bass looks you in the eyes. Haunting the other fish with octaves you cannot hear. Behance the rye bread to curate a pack of jingling loops. The cement is dripping, and it wont stop, the words are too askew to be written out. A medieval moment you thought. Just give it all away, the clock is orange now its ticking fast you’re drooling for the next second a whiff.
There is the light breeze of wind. Clowns blowing dandelion seed. you face yourself to the window, a tetrahedron. The soft blaze in the wind blow with you, you breeze. Filled with the fresh cotton poplin with a touch ofs sand and lavender. A tender testament that allowed you to withdraw yourself from the surroundings. A drunken man is maneuvering a buggy across the Jardin des tuilerie. Some electrical cords hang down from the tree. The wheels collide into the glass harpoons that was situated there by invisible ancestors. A wave of molten wraith lubricates the man in oil. Situated upon the plinth in the middle of the garden. Goose egg stones shuffle like shakers. The current comes alive when shaken. You slide down the inclined tube into a garden of desert in the center of an fertile wetland. The peashooters are firing in a rapid pace signifying a sound of love. Some 10 robotic cloaked nude statues are destroyed by the peas, you walk closer to touch the soil, it feels like the earth is burning.

You visit the farm, after a banged up 50 weeks, hanging yourself as a stickman. A foray of lively beings loosens the laces of the cage, you're out of empathy and tears rain down from the sky, its too acidic and causes your skin to shed, a herculean lift. Hammocked mackerels overflow the banana boat, you think of the weather… yet? Bic arbons and sounds the silent. The motionless animation won’t age as you thought. Lovely leeway to prune the overgrown grass leading to the zone. The metaphor cation of an ideal. In steel knuckles, inconsequential peripheral beings, The liaison between traces and roots. Space is now, through collaborative stems. A garden full of turtles swim freely in swamp water. Booze genders, if there are riders that would askew your views and vision, some kids playing football by Fes are sitting by the side of the pitch, a different coloured sun will rise tomorrow you think.

The nece ssant cinder distinguishes the air from its tarnished bearings. The sharp light cuts a beam across the field. Olive figs remind you of a rustic cauldron. Unable to incline the yarned lines in. The queue to the swab grants the trees fever, some bats cycle around cows, mapped out for you to see. The mint tea hits the 8th chord, it remedifies ill thoughts for the now and loads a new game of senses. The motorway ascends to 21 stairs. Some bees pollinate the preserves on the table, you let them feast, hive minded beings calling out to trees. I used to hate bees, all threats disarmed, nucleic disaster on a nuclear scale if left unquestioned. The tree of limbs continues to extends roots deep down the earths core.

The wind barks, its gust gently seams the creamy fabric. The lights simmering through the chunky pink crystals. Informed by the melting wax chandeliers. The trees engineer a trace of iron as it seeps past the nectarines rule for sovereignty. Some animals awaken in the forest a little past 2, beside the pumpkin farm, meanwhile Some hydrochloride is added into the tannery, creating a skin for a sacrificial workforce of ants. The ants manifest their way into a prayer chant, delving in temples that exist elsewhere in the mind's globe. Some neon gravel has been dug up from the quarry, the ant miners turn on their headlights, praying for an unturned earth, furthering expeditions in the unlit soil.

The mythos of the tale turns to the lord of gloves, hovering over the passageway to the altered kindred spirit the panel of discursive tales thoroughly forbades the signal. In the fields of grass and elderflower
a set of dolly appears, no signal here you thought. Turning your face to the wind, the chrome sky, the beaded willow tree. One of trees in the garden of eden has lost all its leafs, scattered on the ground, blown away before your attempt to re-collect it, it ages. Some water gush out of a fantasied lesion on your forearm. The third eye had given solar energy to the tracks on which the train runs itself through on and on. A storm destroyed a botanical garden somewhere on earth, you should have noticed the hint, phantom biscuit trails that furnish the highway. The man-dug tunnel burdens the quest for absolution, 8oz of burger meat is dropped and you leave it there. After a few days you see it afloat on shallow waters by the guerilla sand.

A chemical germination tessellates square with bold lines towards you, the sound produced by osiris has been analysed by a broad spectrum analyser. The results were redundant enough to be never mentioned again. There comes a surge of inspiration trailing from the tentacles of the octopus. Bliss is such ignorance, acts and shovels you dig towards the end of the tunnel. The asphalt is burning, 5 metres away you see some eggs being fried. The eggs laid down years ago had melted into tar. The buckler does not shield you from this substance There comes an ashtray wisp, rowing through stress waves dancing in the night air back in the tunnel. It illuminates the hollow space, symbiotically relating you to think of a J. Turrell piece that's sat in a garden somewhere far away. The desert is drowning you, you raise the temperature on your pocket weather controller and embrace what comes.

The clouds drift erratically, balancing itself elegantly against the tidal waves, the bones they remind you of your credit score. Speechless at the bends. At least the turtles and toads are having a fine time together. Its late, lagged stem files resound in your ear another another another. DOOMED.and awake. The villains are acting in a polite manner, as to not piss off the stone bearing men. They are shrouded in purple, intent unknown. The birds are singing the truth, they relate the message to the pigeons, and the snails to the turtles back to the toads. They formed a coalition and had a coup. Le grand oscillator is blowing heat from a leather suitcase. The thunder growls, the animals messaged death and the reaper returned the message with a favour. The frail spirit exorcised out of the chandelier tasted the truth, out of undeemed prejudice it asks about the myth that unberthed its cargo. Uneasy to chisel away bit by bit you take the spirit for a fool and tell a dafty tale through propagation.

A vegetated state is no good for anyone you thought, shrilling around looking for a way to escape the system's fritter. You sense a shackle casted by a spell that binds you to sensations in the mind, the winds do not justify its movement there are tombs of snails in the mother womb. Watermelon seeds grow out of nowhere. The baguette is marinated in three litres of lime juice then toasted, now the shrine relocates itself in the rotunda. The autumn breeze cuts the bamboo down with no place for the moth, half of its wing tail orange half of it pink, no set waypoint for destination. Olives and glass adorns the dress. A toy car is being revved up around 5kms away by a magician. Violet crotchet behaving like comets. The mousse taste like that amusement park we used to go in the virtual world you thought. Wild flurries of drums and bells echo your thoughts. In loud decibels the cymbal swings itself beyond usual speed. In the palace of delight some food is entering a reincarnation state. You Are feeling the keys. Abit of loudness, abit of intent makes a perfect recipe for grizzly bears to survive if there are no fish left.

A sugar tinted reverie, knotted, bolted knitwear for life, conversations in the vehicle is very much about scars and ultimately death. The engineer drives, hearing grief in both ears, wishing to know more on the origins of the mysterious ceremony. Am i good or bad? You wont find the answer here, you wont find the answer when milking the cow, Yu paid the maid then is paid back.























Gift Box 1