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Monthly Archives: April 2011

I squint gingerly as the morning attempts to remember it’s name, and her essence does not really leave because it omitted the necessity of arrival prior to its exclamation, yet coincidental brokerage is pure indexicality, and I am humbled in the midst of a youthful revolt that is gathering momentum.

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I book reservations to introductory courses in designing foreplay to prefaces, and I cherish the receipt, which commemorates my avoidance, but she likes traps being instituted by ambiguous management, and I put on another layer of paranoia to maintain the rush, which is not enough to significantly color these pastoral bumps in our fate, but I am courteous when the sparring hobby admits to a more fierce kind of prospect that neither of us may have felt a need to entertain, and I count the number of breaths sacrificed for your nearest verbal phrase that held out new tentacles derived from ordinary strolls past freshly cleaned windows, and I rewind occasionally, but this turbulence begs for attention, and her danger trickles quietly past my boarded up protection agency, and I collect imaginary solvents on funky evenings, which becomes an addiction that distracts me from industrial methods of familial consolidation, and I watch toddlers majestically engineer perfect universes along the shoulders of a dusk lit road, but I cannot pinpoint where I most recently left my ability to believe, and I digitize amnesty, and I think of what she might be holding right now, and I exhaust this original resource of anesthesia, but I publish another rant to exercise my curiosity.

I must check the virtual juice in an obsessive fashion, but I still latch onto urban instances of waking, and this pressure is commentary about the script, and I lean gingerly among a bottleneck of insinuations, while trying to categorize & maximize, but she assaults different receptors with a luscious saga that is decaying originality, and I consult machines far too often, but I did take thorough notes when the ensuing storms were acting out their pinnacle, and I regulate levels of disappearance to protect the circulation of failures, while elasticity haunts my banquet, and her prerequisite angst is weaponry, but I crawl on bruising surfaces occasionally, and the artificial havens being passed out by the masked commanders are accompanied by miles of fine print diagramming an equivocal mess of contingencies, and I do have itches & moods, which force the primordial networks upon meticulously tweaked sojourns, but I glorify calamities to be ardent in learning to renovate the ports of accessibility to the world, and I apparently believe shapes ask for voyeurs with particular lenses, but I respect our collisions, and I nominate utilizable manners without discrimination, yet she poses addenda rapidly, and I build feverishly to demolish with care.

I unseal my retinas to discover an abandoned venue that was once a host to gracious theatricality, and this faucet introduces extraordinary substance at psychedelic rhythms, but her delicate aisles are undermining this feeble campaign for sterility with persistent infestation, which makes the scaffolding wobble, and I pick up a new inking utensil with noble aspirations, but my grip fails us, and daffodils abruptly choose to interact in an experimental way that frightens the porch sitters, but I keep mining for buried techniques of enhancement and deconstruction, while she twirls in a miraculous energy that issues dilemmas to stale regimes.

I become ashamed of this venomous clamor while naively trying to organize these protesting gears, but I’m choking on the evidence, and her weight stubbornly flourishes into my ill prepared garden of childish nuances, yet that anomaly is bright, and I usurp the real nature of fragility through ignorant reductions on a merciless valve, and she probably cries just like other humans, but I know erasers do not work on imperative wounds from scenes that bloomed only for a chance to lightly graze against a mere sliver of existential treasure, and if this catalyst is quieted for any longer, then injustice will flood the cowardly with a greeting to mourn their silly rationalizations, but this ugly furniture never chimes into the debate, and I cling to sketches of the most ordinary kind of decorations meant for a simple abode in some modest valley while this new moon is tugging rather foreignly on my eager hybrid of multiple souls.