John Balance died in a fall.

The bats are fed when the moths are halved
The drunk ship crash on the old bone hull
Flattering, flattering
Old beasts and trains
Obligations? I sore feign interest gain.

Fouled myself swinging black light
Spots on white blot oyster
Tongue milky scoury larvae
Inseminate the tar night
Wit cold cell startled goats.

Press hard on lonely banister
Queen of horned animals
Salt teethlike dominoes
As always born needless
Stupid motorcycle.