A sage plant scrambles for the mob,
walking out of bed and begs for a death.
The adolescence had become graphic.
Do you agree with the splurge of moonlight
under the street light?
The unborn stink was hovering after the shipwreck.
The seagulls were bewildered.
There was only one slogan for the black booth.
Priest was sitting cross-legged in a liplock.
