'..human's patches
seeding undercover,
flesh merely's worth the effort,
in whatever I discover.'
~

'It collides, in this master segment, records articulation's dead, therefore alive! The windsurfed purpose of those who didn't catch the drift is long gone, yet still beside, climbing downhill, consumed in praising for nothing in faith's genuine friend's infinite zeros of that, which has no self of its had.'
~

'Under roof's cracks,
reptile's guard's sleeping,
with exquisite earplugs.'
~

'within peace,
human's narrative's pouches
are
empty
of anguish,
empty of bliss.'
~

'Being ready or not is irrelevant, when tissues are wearing off and bodies are quivering, in each storm, are swayed by the wind, as eternal peace of delivering.'
~

It guards been guarded while guarding the guard. Its stamina is nothing in plenty! Mind's twisting its neat undergarment, proclaiming it freedom's eagerly doormat.  
~

Intentions, a dreadlocked mind of a poor yet gifted creator, drawing rainbows in jail cells, visualising infinity of how soon is too long to comb its extensions. A freeman in a guardhouse is a hostage of a guaranteed glory's probation.  
~