The derivative extracted percolates like pirouetting chestnut, the motion of which extends imaginative license to respect exfoliating indulgences, transitioning from text to subtext to limbo as tasks require undertaking in unwound fecund interdimensional free verse.
Rapscallions.
Tin cups.
Motivated to achieve yet strangleheld by absent physical qualifications, footholds, dreamlike advice metaphorically displacing, insubstantial links riveting unconnected clues, a Kafkaesque hesitance, pursuing, deliberating.
Insecurely supernatural.
Rasputin.
It's possible that the act of distilling the metaphorical displacements through poetic conjecture could construct links in a theoretical chain attached to anatomical veins focused on discussing Lacan or conjuring the ingredients for a delicious microbrew.
Contentment forthcoming.
A stash.
Treasure.
The flames unextinguished as sparrows scatter to intermittently supplant discourses of the heroic.
Cloth delicately swathes young suckling.
Eternal springs of adolescent visions abscond with gruff jingling clairvoyance, you must do something, respond, jangle, consider, trek, quaff, imprisoned existential platinum withstanding phantasmagorical creosote, a glass of milk, chocolate, prime rib, crackerjacks, blankets in winter, firelight, white pine.
The master narrative's unacknowledged marrow.
O negative.
Superlative improvisational resin.
Whole grains.
The Forbidden Room.
No comments:
Post a Comment