I am titling inert sequences within this pristinely virtual diorama, that is also ourselves, but I unkink the manifold of arterial psychologies, which reminds birth to exist, and I get hit with awe, by urging retinas outlined in nervous guilt, while I caress the jumble enough for mutuality.
I designate us within a flight layover cadence, and I notice medical equipment, blurred in our periphery, yet I recite identifying aspects of her, but I overwhelm thoughtful excuses with nobility, and I construct ledges, to house finger bending decorations of madness, while I ask gravity for loyal service, but I wipe off nostalgia, regarding the instances, when she abused that cunningly disguised personality.
I watch these contrived identities, fitting all too snuggly, and I dismantle tomorrow’s paranoia, but I keep to their recipe, as I impossibly gather sporadic accidents in her velvet mastery, and I open transit lines, that use absurdly radiant cartographic elements, yet I am hopeful, within dynamic friction.
I promised existence in far too many cages, and I lean against her beautiful rumors of undone victory.
I gawk at diminished returns, while I keep nodding involuntarily, but I admire how this belief loses it’s footing on the intentionally sabotaged evidence, while I browse grocery coupons to reduce the pressure of death, waltzing on my sternum, but I nudge at this anomaly, and I let myself yield into a fake version her.
I title a formula, but I rely on squinting to comprehend her porous agency, then I give up, as I dedicate to making better thoughts into exchangeable form, but I sense the urge rehabilitating itself, and I wander into another evening of tepid behavioral mayhem, yet I discover little when it’s necessary, while I cherish the improbable splitting, from annexed realisms.
I ornament you passed technical feasibility, and I imagine the vehicle headlights belonging to a romantic, yet I underwrite general lunacy, while I extend so normally into weekday convention, and I put away the ribboned invitational notes, though I blemish factory rules with poetic daggers made of historic light, but I never understand the missing crowds.