Fondness is growing weary and i'd prefer it if you taken halt to such imperfect actions and untidy words. kindling the flames of embryonic flesh, and devoured miss of the mark on a self patriotic species. we spend our lives living literature through languages we cannot fully comprehend, and questions and answers both subside in a quandary of animalistic doom. here, 
there, lies the cowering court yard playing children in their phase of osmosis and adaptation of adp to adhp. from the sun we grow warmth, from the night quivers and quakes, those soothing cool night shakes we grow strength. strength in numbers, strength in mass and with out this hard ship we will weary from the kind kindled philosophy that lately linger out of our ears and on to our toes. 
gather in pools beneath our feet these closeted angle faced lovers
partake in the anti fetus relationship of days past. and with the scorn of church prayers and mother  bearers, father givers, of the masts they hide, 
the dainty children of same sex glide.