I love the gift of all my senses: tame, moving, exciting, hot of serious record, not used. Shhhh goes the house and leaves. All senses convene on one place, on ahead. Examining more of time, not a second is misused. A chance to be swayed, to be blowed, brings up a chance to swing or seed, to incorporate irregularities and move forward, to taste the grease taste of meeting and change.
I love the gift of space on the ports of brain. When I take our nose the world becomes of graces and not-dead people graces, scents on a wound that is life proof. Ordinary normal center becomes pace at for color center man, My model exhibits, stands up, brings up, is surveyed. Black rock and brown rock dust of next. The next line above that is long, green, rooted grass hair. But from that black line we begin.