Relationships are integral if we are ever to regain sensible rule in our sovereign jurisdiction.
The issue is not related to race or religion, but to the management of risk.
So, let us never relinquish our rights, and now recover our democracy in the referendum, in conjunction with our Magna Carta.
Autonomy may balance upon the brink of a seemingly united dictatorship, where the masses of mockery are obscured by the sophisticated dynasty of death.
However, the acclamation of pooled sovereignty is a mere federal fantasy which encapsulates her citizens within a shroud of licentious slavery.
Therefore, in this Eurocratic and transatlantic partnership where trade and investment are presumed to be of utmost importance, let us not dismiss the realities of our people, within this current climate of progressive and certain cataclysm.
Curtains are bi-directional.

Extravagance is characterised by the excessive expenditure of materialistic resources, where those unbridled lusts of the masses have catapulted our anthropological status from an initial experience of innocence and ****** us forth into a debauched state of relativistic and allegedly progressive utopia.
Can I now be reborn into unknown astrological pastures of yesteryear, where time and space confine themselves to boundless parameters and cosmological streams trickle beyond black holes?  
Droplets of our soul are seeping through the cracks of superfluous constellations.
Having been admonished to merely adhere to instructions, it is worth giving consideration to the possibility that we may simply lack accurate realisation.
Yet, the anatomy of integrity is contextual and is juxtaposed with popular and palatable propagandist dogma.
Therefore, although the nature of reality is ever-changing, there is a pattern of non-conforming adherence which spans those artistic ages of presumed literary and oratorical genius.
We know that defense mechanisms are dichotomous, as they may ward off personally undesirable experiences – yet they can also inadvertently champion the cause for solitary confinement.
As we unwrap this explosive socio-political gift, let us reach across the infinite gap and radically accept the folly of what is deemed to be prestigious.
Let us now make a record.
Saturn has rings.

Our bilingual illiteracy and contemporary expression of vintage infancy remind me of developmentally mature eccentricities within a complex haven of interpersonal dynamics.
Just like a carnival hall of mirrors, our perceptual disturbances succumb to elaborate revelations and dreadful expositions of what we presume to be articulate prose.
Although the socio-political roots of a seductive striptease may shatter the silence of our audible and urban ecosystems, we can now access realms which connect to the severance of divided collusion.
Our galaxy has established her infinite story, in the same manner as a wrought iron gate interferes with the evidence within our contemporary society.
It is just like an alternate universe.

The ancient future of a misbegotten conception is likened to a diametrically opposed depersonalisation of incarnate resilience, don’t you think?
Although the far reaching corners of the end resound her mystically alluring and pessimistic chords across galactical ponds of ecstatic connection which are currently unable to establish the depths of vocabulary; can we now consider the possibility of becoming mindful of our present moment of uncertain awareness, where forbidden dreams shed their lubricated skins in a mass ******* where consummated liberty is alleged to loose her bonds of socio-political confinement?
Nightfall has now dawned and cast her circle in this ignorant awakening of insulted intelligence.
Knowledge has perceptual degrees of boundless limitation, where regulation and relinquishment bow their soul in reverence to a spirit of learning beyond that which we have been taught, if this makes sense?

The cushioned fabrics of early sensorimotor expression placate the salivating ghouls of formative destinations which lurk at the neurological gates of repulsive awareness - stripping our fragments and revealing the cellular walls of repelling invitation.
Unfortunately, each surpassing second dictates her significance across zones and frequencies, while we succumb to the arduous process of being ignorantly unwrapped and unleashed into the bountiful emptiness of insight.
That’s life.
In this crude and psychological pre-operational stage of misplaced trust, we are pressing against cosmological forces, into the realms of internalised experiences where the veneer is eventually understood to be characterised by utmost deception.
Let us become formal amidst this abstract projection into harsh environments where the donning of masks can no longer be undertaken with sincerity.
Here, my universal being of connected severance, is the gorgeous discovery of abhorrence.
Like I said: it is the beauty of our beast.

My living disposition leads me to assert that I am not dead!
Yet, my silence screams ancient transcriptions across geographical contour lines which are considered to be far removed from the metaphorical grid of contemporary societal norms, where the seductions of the vampyre and her haunting dynamics cast their eerie spells within this captivating fishbowl of galloping horses.
The Prince of Wallachia is able to explain.
Let us converse with The Count.
Whenever there is emphasis upon specific detail in this age of certain vanity, I find that, in 1456, I am truly bereft of valedictorian and flamenco odours, because this royal prince of acoustic arrangement has generated a harmonious expression which humbly corrects my intrapersonal assumptions across the mountainous regions of Transylvania.
Conflict resolution is therefore a mere figment of sociological and anthropological constructs, which fornicate with the façade of egocentrism and fabricates vain attempts to maintain social elitism within a blanket of darkness.
How do we find ourselves in the position of being so diametrically opposed to reality?

The quest for both burial and resurrection are significant, as their flickering shadows of the self-depreciatory abyss chant their silent and hauntingly audible presence under the canopy of the ancient forest.
Let us celebrate the night together, as we are traumatically enveloped within an exposed and dialectical pronunciation during this classical and acoustic daylight romance.
Although I truly hate your love, I also reject your evident indifference.
This is the essence of feeling like a fake within the genuineness of our actual and perceived realities.
It is heaven-sent, like a feathered breed of unresolved investigations within our socio-political climate of assumed advancement, where the intensity of the beat gyrates her percussionist hips across ******* expressions of the cosmological sound barrier.
Concurrently, the tangible rhythm of nature’s pulse considerately consummates her forcefully placid interactions within the context of gender specific diversity.
It is all in the name of discriminatory wholeness, my friend.
Our ambivalent connectedness to that which is catastrophically uncertain reminds me of drawing curtains across this conglomerate dawn of darkness and uninhibited concealment.
Just look at our ornithological formation, where leadership spreads her wings with censored zoological resignations and simplistic wisdom.
You have truly lifted my soul within the complexity of this circuitry, and I wholeheartedly acknowledge that we are a myriad of expressions which cannot be adequately articulated within the thermals of our cosmological stratosphere.
Yet, there is a certain finesse to delinquency, and I have bridged the metaphorical gap across the chasm of divided entities, where we can embrace the cool and gentle breeze right at the fulcrum of unforgiving landscapes and shamanic pastures.
Like an artistic depiction of woodland serenity, we are engaged in this wonderful neutrality where it is all about the dance – otherwise known as the energy of modern choreography.
Epistemology can be questionable, where assumptions are sickeningly grounded within the soil of egocentric perceptions of supremacy.
Trust me, my seasoned partner of those astral plains of Nirvana: my lips are sealed in this putrid reconciliation of proclaimed opposites, which are said to mutually attract.