Finish my pout:
Still in silver service, silence for stone
Speed of specialness, I implore to route
A friends smile, to a season of its loan...

Brazen, the tooth of intimacy
Even to the point, of reticent doubt
We are the sigh, of a debacle, ready for instancy
That has come and gone with needs, the many is now...

Courage
And the taint of a maligning lip
So sovereign, for a river of couth's, wage
*** and deliberation's share, in the stoic misery we whit:

Is a taste in wishes with none's voice, for more?
Set in mutual distrust, the music of completion...
Is a hardened drive for poised meager and tumultuous, war?
Of sincerity to fathom the just, the tow of comprehension with sin?

I hate, therefore I dream in colors...
Of heaven with a remembered plea:
Sated with your soul, and the intricacy of what honor; force
I have given not, the heed of history, in the voice of youth to be free...?

Taint, a tender trap?
Blue of the sky, remembered by a cloud:
Faintly, the poetry of life, and its hap
Has the voice to step forward, and remind the season of the proud:

A hatful of poor decision's, has its merit...
But the cool eye of embarrassment
Has come and gone, with meet to understand, limited...
To ours, the count of couth, is one more irony's lament?

Hate me when you see the dragon...
Ought fix and fit enough futures
The life of a needier first, is always a sorrow last, a harrowed tongue?
Has said the obvious, a role in the heinous is a fools curiosity...

Throwing tenderness at you, like one of thumbs even is...
Reasons may give you onus, a variety to concede a gift
Coming for beauty, and its rosy inclination, a truer wisdom
That has survived the heed, the beating wings of condition to lift:

Hate me one more time, a reality of pain has become a champion:
To the fate, the hardened courage of youth, with a challenged whisper?
May a knowing hurt, be the fascinated letter of providence
Seeing the obvious, a bird of purer colors, will finish the kiss?

Guns with an imagination...?
Salt in a brutish court, of angers more, to swear in romantic language
Still the burden of squalor, with a slighter lip of intimation?
Your fruit is sweeter by the secrecy, as if, a cold shoulder ever is a place for rage...

Oily flowers
Slap faces like an angel
Simply twain, simpler powers
Sit in the sun, like a smile for the devil

Agony, of an oily smile
Sit to once, upon nothing more...
Hap and adage, require you, of a while
Meaning no-where's step, for a curious war...

Anything, everywhere at once...
A promise to shed, a tear
Through and through, before life begun
The love and misery, is a magic, to fear?

Sated...?
And shown to chew the thought
Is a mystery, of reality, so fated?
When poor is such, aren't we a death sought?

Oily more...
We said the cope, of another world
Suggesting only, the question's we were
Given pride's notion, specialness's devotion; is a fears lover, ever early?

Places to defer:
To a salty justice
Soap and a question worth
Please be my ought, a common request with a shrill vice?

Salt seems to be my only hope...
Stoic rewards and harrowing few's, of callousness
Aside, I see the providence of stillness, take root
With a smile and a sharing behalf, I wonder if I bless...?

Stong winds may disapprove...
Long looks at no-where's imagination...
Standing well in front, savagery in back with no love...
And the anarchy of that smile, anxious and doting on silent...

Nightmares, with a reaching lead of simplicity
A lip of service and dissuasion, set too high
For a requited moment, to tell the wishes we imply, inherently
Have the yearning before a seldom seen, angel understands cry...

Given the time, given the lucid rhyme
Of patience and its virtue, your remembering
Of a long sated and twisted form to compare, the youth of time?
Has a voice struck with means, meager enough to swear we...

Shoulder
A rising fortune of senses alive, set to aches and plains
Of worlds redeemed, by a wish we made, with a meant nerve
Will you marry me, is even a voice to martyr beyond the call of the rains...?

The fingers of God, to assemble a choice:
Burden in surviving pockets, look
And see the compliment of decision, a unique voice
With a moment to spare, no, to spend a chance youth

A coin bent to near-never's response...
Was my first time, of vice and its charity?
Somewhere beyond the pale, oddity is a shrewd haunt...
Letting finished thoughts usurp a patience for found daring?

Long times with no professed curiosity?
Saving through with a common enough choice, the tout
Of sincerity versus the severity of quiet, in a god fearing country
Still as stolen liberty's, made to reveal a living fact, for a pout:

Many, did the courage it took...
Lent the silver in a rhyming moon, was my youth a shame?
Known with the lips of love, the tale I speak of, could...
Take the life, of logic and proportion, to a weathered ages name?

The boat done, in a bottle of summation, a service
To witness raging, or speed of special letting
The condition of finality to a remembered patience, we sigh
Is ours for a ghost and an answer, pretty to ides, but death in the setting

Death in a new land
So simple, for a trust to question the better and the letter
But with moments like these, the curiosity in hand
Is ours for a song, the truth of poised hate that has come to these, meaning only fairer?

Letting the ivy roam...
Moonlight serenade, to a begun favor:
Sense in a gentler breeze, the thought to own
A grace, a fastidious space, for a little face...

Pink, the through and due, irony we seldom
Stink and prosper, the alienation we souled?
Together in legend, we tell a tale to a God's question:
Letting the ivy see, is a redress of futures, fools?

Paces and setting a catch, of futures in the light?
A wavering kiss, and the doles of redemption
Have their solemn kin, taken to remembering a night?
My name is a person, order and truth, to another selection...

Of hearts or the ivy...
Spare to fore, we conceive a notion
Made to tailor, a secret, an irony sighed...
Like the bird it was, a concern that lead to devotion...

Ivy sleeps, shadows play...
In the breeds we assume are, the peace of decency...
That has awoken, and seen the sun come, for why...?
Persuade a kind from dread, our fruit is a gift of agony...?

Building halts; continuing salt...
When has a legend presumed finish, of soon's reasons?
The tow of exception, is a wind to defer to a copious fall?
Looking ivy in the eye, asking nix for not, a needs seasons?

The fight is brutal, letting ivy is like a breath between friends
Aching at the completed hour, the duty of they and strange smiles
Set in similar pasts to a redefining must, that only with help, lends
A role no greater than now, a whisper that ended a world's defiled?

Ivy wants your life for a silence...
Ivy has the stomach to turn direction into beauty...
Ivy seemingly aloof, to worth to realize a gift is fast, to the chin...
Ivy knows you, like a taken privilege on the other side of saying we...

Tones of a thorough voice
Masculine or feminine, tender to a fault
And a whole leap of conscience, for to liberty we were...
The time of collecting notice of a shared decision, for a salt

Restitute, and wondering if gay can be?
The tale of lived hours, home to save a callous share
Of what is us, if thundering frustration, have to heed...
Will a certainty of poise, begin with destined options or a delinquent flare?

A voice through enough, is careful, to tell the chance...
Of cease and herald, my timidity is for better all
Them and sense to seem, the better of a falling man?
That has seen a wiser choice, the breadth of concern to any's call?

Truer to define a shout, than a whisper of curiosity...
Mind over mention, of matter's at hand, may and?
Have the courage to live in well and lent light, a virtuosity
That comes and goes like a lover, notice me in the sulk, of also ran...

Time immemorial, them given implicitly...
Finished thought's, that feed me for years...
Kissing questions sound enough, to live the life of reality...
And a brown-nosed television, with an excuse of purposes to suggest we're...