Visual
Original
Shelter for My Love
Smooth strands
Clinging to my fingers
Curl to thick wisps
Above pink ears.
A reddish gold field
Swaying with my hand,
My fingertips acting
As the wind.
His masculine face
Cradles to my chest in refuge,
As Mother Nature
Runs her fingertips
Harshly over my own body.
Remixed
The Circus it Makes
The smooth fibre
Which hangs above in the refuge
My finger for my love in the wicks
Where the top of the ear
Of the pink is thick.
My hand, as wind
The gold layer to which the redness
Which shakes with my end of the finger
Which functioning is made applies.
The excess of its end of the finger
My itself body which it moves that basket
Of tremor of surface of man in my box of criticisim,
Harshly like large normal.