wrapped in an oak barrel

dreams in the courtyard of miracles refer to an aspect of the stalk
that was stolen by the stork to hold the new breath in its beak,
I lay a bunch of flowers in the silence of loss,
in the little beauties that are lost,
flying to the north star above a baby pissing statue in Brussels and a sad girl in Copenhagen,
both nailed on earth living in the dark,
rising to our lamp due to amateurs of all colors and glories,
the marshmallows on the beach. your pictures: very lovely and sweet smile ... . seems you enjoy life... take it easy the way it arrives in your doorstep. its an exiting adventure in a flowing downstream,
the revolution of fairies , the blossoming roses without the expectation of Eden........
the absence of reality, in a plain Andromeda virtual trip, functions over the capacity of restrictive atmospheres in a wold of poisonous cinnamon whose position deliver the mutant of convenience in shredded papers.
in an absolute environment of uni matching personalities a bantering effect can cause the demolition of the social bondage creating a chaos of emotions.............