In the throes of the storm

Last autumn leaves in the throes of the storm,

off target large, destructive.

Fraudulent Immet the sky, dancing,

shaking under his feet, all the potential of, mires etc..

Deceived fear when a human-wolves howl.

 human-wolves howl at the time.

I know the back of the neck cold death-grapples,

the point is installed in Finland 

down all then we carried.

You're hiding behind the cunning 

craftiness, still on the water you row.

Sin sisters gather over the winter off all the lizards.

My brain is like a touch-free,

strikes major flood of words. It floats me

my brain open seas, the pier has

 escaped from its beautiful beaches.

I as floating, the words have 

surrounded the exhausted writer.

I am a prisoner of between 

five lively sentence, comma,

and a point here and there.

 Port of sleep skating icy

site clichés. I can not find the world of cold,

her every stop of my words in this storm.

Others will find happiness,

 and the world to them, smiling.

I am the one who quagmire overwhelm words

for nothing is hiding. There is no calm in front of me,

without the waves of the open sea.