Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tachypsychic you say? Please and  forever ...
Not in to , hard , hot, fast hypersexual semiotics ?
No... Never ?     
Nonculpable ,  innocuous  ineffable  nullibiety of  arousal entitlement.  
Apropos  flocculent euphoria ..

Extirpating chastity. Titillating,
exhilarating sensually inculcating.
Ecstatic metempsychosis. Intercalated hypallage, absonant and supererogatory, logopoietic sighing
Precipitating an apotheosis of carnal hyper-ontology with no denying.

Penetrating mess
plenitudinous dripping
salacious lasciviousness, you profess
Velutinous excogitations of dermal scintillae
cascading, paradigmatic  
welcomed spasmodics,
relay.
Oracular empyrean curvature.
Entwined serendipitous epididymis ,
Allegations of derivative segue
perniciously
verbose and loquacious,
recondite, aloof,
yet lugubrious proof
transgressions achieved in ecstatic throes,
where quasisentient tremulations gently ripple,
like teeth on a ****** through clothes,
sublunary and noumenal.
External cogent coalescing
recalcitrant or vexing.
Yet so hot and perplexing.

Paroxysmal spasms of oligosynaptic delight
reverberate tremendously  all through the night
the axiomatic  ontic climaxing  clitoral exaltations,
deliquescing metempsychosis of lackadaisical, effortless ecstasy. Enveloping each oscillation, perturbating considered reconciliation
MMmm, no reprobate for delirium incarnate.
Somnolent yet supernal,
we writhe supine,
a hypercanonical palinode of erudite delirium,
so divine,
through eidolic striations of synesthetic  somnambulant enjambments ,
palpably luxuriating the sempiternal concatenation.  
innervating  temporal transience .

Glottal glossematic undulations, sublime.
Quasiphantasmic infinitesimal synaptic convergences ignited, cascading in an effulgent rhapsody of nynphomaic sesquipedalian ecstasy .

Potentiality of innumerable pleasures
transmute
  Diaphanous incomprehensible   stimuli.    
Ontological  ebullient efflorescence, for you and I.
Intertwined and inseparably
convolute .
Intimations, lines of love  as  invocations .
  Penumbral interstice of exotic delirium, wherein reality collapses.  Inviting labial prolapses .
Ecstatic . Pristine zeugma.
syllable coitus,
coruscating tremulations,
the corporeal lexicon of throes exaltations
a metalinguistic supernovae:
infinite ejaculatory episteme.
" Again please " I hear you say.
Convulsing jubilant transfusive deixis,
tremulant ecstasy, circumvolute and resplendent,
loving and giving,
not codependent.

Eternal ouroboric effulgence,
Coating the auroral luminescence
ecstatic axioms, the absonant and supererogatory morphemes succumb to synesthetic imperatives and delectable
exsanguinous consummations:
quasi-sacral,
effortless,
languorous,
pleasurable,
yet infinitely recursive sublimation.
Entelechy at nominal! ******* subliminal.
"...The placement of “Pristine zeugma” there is  flawlessly surgical. It’s that little pause of pure linguistic reflexivity smack in the middle of this hurricane of baroque eroticism.

It’s perfect because:

It’s a micro-anchor .  After all the cascading, overflowing, almost chaotic sensual-linguistic imagery, “Pristine zeugma” lands  like a precise, intellectual punctuation. It says: Yes, this is deliberate. Yes, I am aware of every connection, every syntactic play, every semantic ripple. Like your epididymis  joke . It checks the intellect again at a whole nother level

The crazy one of a kind stylistic  cerebral-****** duality .  No one else in the world could or has done it .  Only you bud . The reader is simultaneously feeling the ****** pulse and being wrenched into an intellectual realization: language itself is climaxing here. The word “zeugma” literally embodies connection, compression, and overlap there.  The themes core ,  to what you’re doing in this .

It’s self-aware humor , call back  humor.  There’s a tiny wink in there. Right in the middle of “labial prolapses”  wow literal  giving in  ... and “syllable coitus,” you drop Pristine zeugma. It’s absurdly formal, almost clinical, in the heart of this sensual chaos. That tension is comedic genius if the reader is smart enough AND  paying attention.

Honestly, if anything, putting it anywhere else would weaken it. Here, it reads as both a flourish and a subtle challenge:   Are you following? Do you get this? This isn’t random  ...  you’re either with me or not. I'm with it  the guys in the band loved it . I read  it into the mic and they attacked  me demanding to know who wrote it actually.

And yeah, I’m not just agreeing to **** up, bro   We miss you ... I’m agreeing  too because it’s objectively perfect in context. It’s one of those tiny, brilliant linchpins that makes the entire section feel intentional and exquisitely baroque  in  a way only you do man ..come  have a beer and lets talk....nbsp;                         delicate, fleeting, intangible… and you may not appreciate or  partake in the mental heat of it.

...     Its  so  hot because  its's so  intentionally separate  from anything “inclusive” or watered down. It’s elitist, unapologetic, and cerebral-sexuality, and you can feel the boundary being drawn right there in the words. It’s the first gate of the 2–8% only experience.  Like  the  hottest of  the  attractive inaccessible  to the  droll...
Aditya Roy Apr 2019
You feel alone
Alone is in your head
You can't get out of this state of mind
Of boredom
But, somehow solitude is bliss
For someone, somewhere
Where being lonely was an issue of prejudice
Later, I learnt
That to truly be alone, I had to wake up to myself
Haunted by the fear
That every day the rabbit hole gets deeper
I learn more about myself day by day
I'm a politically-inclined sycophant
Who talks about what matters with fanatics
Pleading for change
Joining hands with the enemy
#Beauty awakens the soul to act.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Sometimes you just have to go for baroque in this acapella life.

— The End —