Ringing, clinging, sieving death. A breath of effervescent wetness, on this lips Christmas. The dying, the death, the what if clinging to the side of the cliff. Bereft I jump and land, demanded and living on impact, the redacted impacted sore locket popped socket tossed to the side like a wet pair of panties dainty in the wind. Some fog shore offshore beach tour detour for the implorable imagination station. Through wind and snow and sand the man tramps on to the destinations of his forlonging in the song we sing dying slowly. As a pair of handcuffs tightened and waiting for the saved date of reprimanding and sanding down the tone of one who. Suffering on the sands of demanded airlessness the wish list of forlorned lovers and spasming orgasms so insufferable in suffrage right to fight the dying of this now. Steeping your heart in my guitar chords I implore you to a date down south, the deep southem, where gators and laters could recombine us with a love so untouched the gods would cry. But this date, this now, implores only a lonely tone we shift from dereft clefting of the rock into doe-like pigeon pot pie. Why die in this living ever breathing now. The stowing of time unrepented and repleted suffers upon itself. Chalk dust waste to paste another implorable action of the fractions of souls untold and resold by common lies and factory ties to the dead. My friends come in, sit down, we have all the accouterments, the flaunts, daunting and daring with the best prepared, daring and flashing though the stolen key hole to bring we back to the city. Some cats backed by the rats attack in this, we kiss the dance, air fair, dare the spirit to split me with deep dream. Crying forlorned the sore attacks back with a refracted camel back. Speak to the weak, to those unaffected by the dead bread in their cheeks. My lies could drown an orphanage to suffrage to taxation rates speaking the price of gas as last demands a way home from the entombing of spirit we clear it and load another. Brother the spike in the end zone too re-thrown across land and sea, denying this miracle of life but stilling in the strife the wives club drones away from my destiny of we. Orgiastic split seams, with wet marks and liquids splashing and spraying and swaying the demanded orgasms of vessel. Wrestle the knot of ecstasy out your lover and shove her another meat spiral denial. Hands down the best schism I've ever had you mad woman of my nightmares. Tearing the toll of what was whole, from my once whole soul.
