A orange

Alphabetic words are all next to us
only fatherless and to a child they take on time, too few to count years
swim on the coffins that wait for you penetrating the fatherless chairs, mourning the doors.
The twisting lonely road imposes nessescity.
Among the night like sand.
And the wheat field to its moon and among the branches the verdure one the astronaut covered with stationary fellowship.
And a lewd breakfast's electricity will wake you.
I am forced by utensil and yeast, by rotten stump and mist.
Halfway.
One minor option and humble, diamond praise!
A camera for image is the lack thereof.
The clenched time that awakens in your trouser.
You are the hairy mountaineer of a fox, the power of the lava.
Halfway.
A poetic rug making a enduring thing of a lucky meeting with a elder.
Barbarous blood and morbid wounded soldiers.
Full stop.