Word of the storm

Last autumn leaves in the throes of a storm, 
ruthless in large, destructive. 
Fraudulent without fairies,
dancing, 
under the feet-loaded, 
all vessels Hummocks,
bewailed the cold fairies. 


Deceived afraid, 
as the werewolves howl when. 
I feel the cold in my neck 
death-grapples, 
point is mounted 
Finland all got hauled to the ground. 
You deception, hiding behind the 
still huopaat, you row. 
Sin sisters gather over the winter away 
all lizards. 
My brain is like a free flowing rapids, 
strikes a large flood of words. 
It floats me 
pelagic areas of the brain, is the pier 
escaped from its beautiful beaches. 
I as floating, 
words surrounded the exhausted author. 
I am a prisoner in five lively 
between the sentence, comma, 
and the dotted here and there. 
Sleep skate over frozen harbor 
clichés on. 

I can not find the world of cold, 
him to stop this storm of words. 
Others find their happiness, 
and the world smiles to them. 
I am he who is drowning in
 a quagmire of words 
Lurking in vain. 
There is no calm in front of me, 
not corrugated open sea.