Blackened eggs enjoy the further enjoyment of their own false torched houses, as with Sarah's visions that control the lampshade, she is not the one lying between the empty beaches and the seagulls travail. I hamper all motives, it is with eastern eyes that Sarah sings, it is the point to go on. I remain a reminder to the children of the town, which line in a row, against all borders, silhoetted like two theives. It is I who brought it here. She callowed with arms outstretched like crickets, she knew what she had finished. As he spoke, she always dreamed of his demise, it is with answers, which come back in the forms of hampered coat tails. She speaks as a colon, and I have taken the form of a thousand cathedrals, which kneels in humble submission, and let her pass ablaze with realms. So let me approach as the flowers which arch like the archangels imposing glare towards the vulture's absence on the day of judgement. I confess in the front of a sovereign garland that the weight of melanxholia blurs all my sonnets of glosolalia. It is my dreams of drowsiness that we spread the gravelids of the sphinxes. Oh, avenging backbone of my various domains, I respect your decision i shall not complain, but the weight of your mistaken harpoon which weighs like a framework of returning cathedrals, which still linger. I have not abandoned you, I have not slumbered, I have silhouetted your swellings. And who am I still seeking, for we are but ghosts confined.