First off… the song of today… Linked through this… When, and with who, shall I find the true kiss of bliss. I know this not yet even in my own thought. Sure, my books may be bought, yet how can I slip the plot into the thought to find a line into the spines that ought. I know not the full plots of the potions to sip her notions of denial. And while the files dip into the trips to make an idea to take a look into the nook, they shook the tone of how they now condone the seeds of others needs to be met. The intuition of a pet shares that the wares are peddled as they meddled the brew. So many and so few know how to invoke it too. I can and must set on and through the nets of true and return to the ocean with amplified devotion. Though they have not a clue about who I am and what the gemstones shall share, I find that while there, there is a bit of a smile to cross my countenance. I wish to sense the tenses of time that will meld with the rhyme.
A climb down the page will allow the mage now to know the subtle union of the flow, and although I still shall till the sands of Atlantis, a dramatic and cinematic share to show where they tow along the raft of the craft remind me that some have laughed. Though I still know not the knot and how they’ve brought me up to sup. A kind good pup refines the lines that some spines can hold in the mould of the signs that mingle with a link to Holly. A volley to the view from the top of SFU to cue the hard drive to sector 7G with the links also to spin a fact of my love. I am not one above. I act like a dove, yet some wish to shred the bird as I bled in the third. Words formate around the gate of how I shall still chill the will of all and crawl back into the fact that my impact is like a feather on a balloon. I don’t think it soon enough. To skip the puff and find the red blue cue of a filter to tilt another back and look at the track of the stars. Though no bars were written, the kitten’s paws claw out the flaws. Chainsaws in mention cross the bridge like suspension of the fridged type I seem to be. I cannot, and will not deceive some from finding the tree.
This day has been exhausting, though in a way to let me play and find the ease to say that I don’t think it could even be a day, let alone forever. I want to sever the dream and find the screams of my soul to release control to God. Though they’ve trod upon the swan, the eyes of a moonlit dawn shall share and show Sharon and Ron that the pawn is me according to how some will plumb the eaves and find that the past things I made are in the way the ways wade in the days that amaze my own self. A shelf of concrete starts to mix the beat into the cleat of the boat. A sly note from one to tote a canoe down the river, and not with the one who made me shiver a mention of the hydraulic convention to spin the kin into a kind way to win for many, and not pot the sands of dual in the fuel. Yes, my rhymes make little sense, yet a vital tense of time will remind me that I cannot see that we’re each free to learn, love, live, thrive, create, play, and pray in ways that shall allow us to gel the daunting task of being one to ask. A flask sipped from the smile shall remind me with the file that there are some who’ve yet to learn where we come from. And, yes, I’m one who’s like a lost crumb. I cannot, and will not pot the sands of the gem without reminding them.
Ideas course through me, and though I still need to clarify my heart, the starts of the beginning will find the spinning of the disc a brisk link to smink the track and share much more with so many and few that will let the heart dance on the floor to ensure we need not form an argument, dispute, or war. The core of the sample to find an ample wish to fish the ears out of my own fears. The tears shed in the way I have sped into the facts of some who’s tracts have led me back to home, and though I cannot seem to let the foam of the shoreline share the certainty of her own design, I ask for the grace to learn and form more trines with lines that will remind me that there are some who may wish for me to be dumb and not earn the sums that will be required to fuel what inspired me to be like the seed to a tree. I am still very damaged and torn in my soul, yet the learning of how to control my own being is something the keying of these will help me with mp3s. The ideas to freeze the breeze into an iconic ease also shall share and grow of how (and with who) we continue the flow, even if not on the show. I know not yet how I will find the cigarettes set aside, yet still, as a contialic guide, I reside in my own mental tide. Content to let me reside in fide, yet the fibe creeps up slow to show that we will find a way to know.