there have been sureties not been able to suffer from avoidance; contiguity and octave that when our hands compose they become a cistern prognosis which are visibly shut in there own organs waiting for an unborn character to upset through weakness, and a faltered selfish flavor that jolts into a superstition of your own apathetic disposition
In the culvert the crucifixion is another discipline, a bureaucracy that I no longer believe in faith or vertigo but there will be droughts and veneer parquet floors in deserted homes while the pressure of overcoming guilt is a struggle on its own and the fear of a parallel rupture assorted with emotional trauma because i've already given a closure for you to hold onto
the vault of your sunshower augurs meticulously that the widow beside you is reading "Les complaintes" by Laforgue and then you effortlessely mention about the Perihelions and estuaries, with a clear sprout of conflagration but don't forget that the following morning you will need a warm cup of water with a piece of lime to remind yourself about ethical morals and fictional horizons
the chokecherries have indentified the intercontinental blues that eyes have averted towards Cornelius the Centurion while in your study room you've realized that "our godforsaken Titantic dreams were never rehearsed or disembarked but they were countless overwhelming excuses of cardinal hotel bedroom visits and "advection" from obscene choices to orbit around old conditions "the inquiry of a riddle extending its meaning"
the cauterization has tangents of confessional conciliatory and misnomer that "we are drawn together" by a masonry honeycomb where there are inacessible railways in my "refrain with your summer rain" that I'm comprehending the interference between failures and a knowing glance of when your shifting in bed demanding that you touch a memory documentation a year from now even if the sun is melting onto a projection of apothecary addiction
the quotations are phases from "maldaption and urgency" to carnal a glass of pinot noir that nothing is correspondent or vociferous; but I had reality explaining this is not the way to live with 'detailed confusion' I held onto a predilection reddening dawn and a distinct revelry along side techniques and melancholics mishearing about the london life, meanwhile it's a different situtation at home, and I need a dictionary to emphazie the term psychological trauma, because the mourning is yet to arrive
the portmanteau has eloquence, evocative imbrication that iced espressos & Italian romances are rosary complexities of constricted wants hushing the bipartisans; that I theorize poinsettia's on a careened need of "fermented" relief while my nervousness is suggesting you to pick up the suitcase and believe every word spilling from my mouth you used to intricate/ scythe and the interior now contrasting in a winter tangerine containment, "alleviate pheromone" to inhale another vision that wasn't even close to believing