Sitting waiting for the glare...
from gifts of beauty and fueled dreams

Yet what I sensate or demand
   never tells the truth...

Of horror and tales that these dreams demand

Why put the day off if you don't know what it is?

It's only a death sentence... jeeze what chaos life inside breeds...
About a bluff, roads flying front abut to ground, before tossing a swig -as they aim for the ground.

This lonely speaking solstice is tethered and casing me for a thievery...

What more can weigh  me down?
  I know the free dream will soon hit the ground.
When you feel it, as it moves through the night,
   what destiny can brave grounded golden grand aspirations seek,
        and climb visceral to the platinum delight with you?

Now, yield's sensations of brutal werewolf daunting tasks
while the Rubicon was awaiting for the rhyme to reason was tasked...
  
From the slew of slowest askewest acrimonious new deeded clough.
   Our rough paced real world awakening
   affront stood with a standing stance akin
   of the lauded for the first indication with sessions of warriors
   that knew... for the last and reason cast to **** the lives of innocents,    
   for the lives of the be all, are with that of bane or function;
   affirm avail go through.