Barren.
Gut-wrenched and jagged like bitter metallic grist.
Seductive intransitive loyal strands besmirched in brazen castor.
She's in control.
He can't be beaten.
Youth and femininity seeking independence, suffering as their gifts intend.
Manipulation.
Honesty.
Power crushing its seamless outfoxed score, insurgent violence, brutally resigned.
Limits unextinguished.
Doctored dilettante adoring.
Lessons in lesions.
Just another day.
Its consequences sear its combatants with infernal fetching flames, talk, cheap, destined knees.
Full-scrapped and infiltrating, the cold calumny collapsing, its monstrous festered grip, clenching clasped constabularies.
Reactivity.
Its suffocations.
Its distance.
(I wonder if Christopher Lloyd's [Kroenig] performance was a tribute to that of Harry Dean Stanton in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me).
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