At my own peril, I suffer dark curse for unauthorised permit to the autumn. What kind of autumn that we have in this tropical place?
I heard bells toll slow and solemn, ringing their dirges into fetid humid air of this island.
A sombre procession marches on, refusing to acknowledge the heat.
Bethink oneself of childhood wound, I refused to arise.
They were absent on three consecutive months.
I walk towards the galaxy of freckles, log that I put in bedside table and reminisce the dreams I have encountered.
At my own peril, I suffer dark curse for unauthorised permit to the spring.
The ghastly and the gnawing sense. They put themselves into my rucksack.
Whilst the moonbeam helps to banish the sombre time, Vermin Cat appears and attack me with her mucky claws.
Simply I wish to resurrect the the springtime. The purple doomed oyster said wait until the clock round and round again.
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