Belief wears a coat of punches in the morning, nbeginning the day with unconscious revery.nOr it's conscious, it's conscious, it's conscious.nNotice if this is a gift or just a number for collection.nnRheumatic boulder could your sheets still roll?nIt went to a reunionnwith its pillows brought from home.nnThe bombardment of games isnmaking us simper.nThe ingredients of castles a nrunaway mother.nnCome on memory! Your spannholds movies, like novels, nlike paintings, where did you go? Salvo of pleasure isnlanguor in my fists, on my throne. nnThe quiet of free and yet antithesizing.nPlural guitars of war that we don't know.nIt's the loudness, the loudness, the loudness.nnSufferer's breast and the dryness of climactic milk.nnRheumatic boulder could your sheets still roll?nIt went to a reunionnwith its pillows brought from home.nnThe bombardment of games is making us simper, nthe ingredients of castles a runaway mother.nn