The glittering of the sun is tossed into bottomless outer space.

The everlasting wonderful outdoor triumph of darkness and its subtleties is unsurpassed by the collapsed fragments of the sun, which mirrors financial dealings.  

Treat the moon like you would your second wife or other hardened wartime allies.

The moon will always be triumphant over the sun. That’s the option everybody should entrust in to avoid transparent objects not observed by interactions with diverging people and other subsequent experiments phased out by opaqueness so treacherous.

There is no recognition of directions and speeds of heat as a form of combinations and tones of energy to overcome.

The sun is a barren version of light.

Spring has a septic forerunner: the new Chernobyl: Summer

Brightness is a dazed jinx.

Rebuild trance-like separatists of spring and summer before they evolve without witnesses. 

Create swerving ventilation against colour experts.

Have no issues with warmth or sunshine if it is made opaque.

Be part of the ilk not borne of chemistry or biology.

Mutilation of total potential of light.

Insolent suspicion is stuck to the back of the sun and its remains.

The things we do to perish at random in the worst moments of yellow colours.

Nights of the future involve hazy reports of vague anticipation of universal practice.

Make the day go away because it is a large, hollow conducting dome of contemplation.

On the perimeter of repeated variations of human civilisation there is a planet next to a star without an acceptable level of professionalism.