English Prose

My early thougts rising while desert islands were deeping on the shore, the moon as a dog could be surviving in these eyes of a womb. A lonely day, clouds beside flames by child streets, mountains and ships while the skies are in churches and factores. Touch me as one nature of time of sheeps, only your eyes a are fighting while guns are coming from teeths of soldiers of this dead king as ghost. Love is bigger, this world seems like a silver atmosphere, sleeping with birds at my own home, with a new sight, touching the sun light, the eyes of sensible woman, without desires to receive nothing in return, are the center of this universe!