The elevated prose idea
helps you get through life wellness rooms 
circling a moratorium on consumption — 
so help yourself — thru summer. Then just before Halloween this comes in.
Your first lover could not heal your mind through his skin.
Then we happened to answer you, seeing the wind is fixed in the dirt
and circles midair. We see your subtle flight.

Buried for dead but still in our view:
If I put my hands on..
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

It’s a mistake in the tradition but it gets you sleepwalking now with one shoe in hand.

I will find you. Until then It just snowballs until all frontiers on Earth are taken under one Halloween rule. 

Our slogan has been restated: Bodies of formulae destroy poetry until only style prevails. 

(Yay..)