Vocally Mad

In the air of night hues U C emit the early quest for fire. By baptism, there is art that forms desire. Love needs no introduction in the book of life targeted in the catacombs of jungles. The moon is not touched so there is no Aesop fumble appearing in the grapevine of challenges promoted by host. What appears the most is only inside the labyrinth wall of our Lord. No weather forms without climactic change. U bleed in TV sitcoms to thrash your guest apart, I visit your house and comb through the quartz. What gives in to U know U, gives me a very deep blue to capitalize the poster that a child broke from the yoke in the brim stage. Why wait. So much to conquer. Thunder fell from the sky in the lines of my heart as I walk through the lanes. Hoping this season I kill the pain. Rain falls on me as I step away from the vehement. Vocally mad and deity.