Omnipresent and virtuously oviparous, I repose against gleaming psalms.
The roots of thought, one and tangled, offer melodic sentience to spring
And apathetic passion for a feature of pride to aid the universe to sing;
Ancient genuflections bind polarities upon the halves of our senses palms.

Motionless palates, neon or numinous, tune the harmony of our senses
And the musician in solitude is left to taste Lethe's tears of opalescent brine;
A vigil with the celestial creeping of a tragic heart, trines to mine
And I arduously suffer in infancy, learning the wisdom of tenses...

So I write to imperial Dawns, sacrificing divine oeuvres to the Orange waist;
Time's sharpening fringe silhouettes a crest upon the fiery eye of solitude
I praise, rummaging through shame's moraine, the weeping savage sky of Navy brood,
Sickly parching the veins of the Sun, I light blackness unto blackness, reserving an eternal waste. 

Scythes, blossoming from dewy green, part the sight of mirrored eyes
Against the pulping lens and elucidated equivocals suckle against the airy breast
And solemnly mock the plight of worth hidden within our chest,
Hollowed by the omnipresent virtue of the restless child who flies;

Spelling nocturnal vows from the stars lactating unto the page
He mumbles and wanders not against, or to, but within his age;
How the four doves gleam over the skyline with their two eyes of shared sight!
The vigils are resting, reaching has liquidated, the Parnassians repose artificial light;

Senses glow and wax their masks below the brood, children of eternity grasp breath
And our equator of bonded senseless blood curdles oily throats beyond wasted death.

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