contemplation's destination has got me in a tizzy this evening. It has sored my heart to open bleeding gothic brew and bothersome melodious drowning in my ears. I am so sick of the non absent nose and the droll doldrums of the airy gasps of utterance that befall the lips of the perceivers. AS spectacular debauchery of prude ignorant justification to light the deepest, blackest of cesspools within my mind. Toady is a day of most prophetic and poetic despairing probability.
The verbality and mediocrity of a situation is the direct result of the inclination to want to utilize all vernacular one can muster in a single setting and to forge a creative outlet for what will be the new words and phrases of a billenia. It behooves me to have the foresight to take on such a veritable task and to do so with such gusto and wanton abandon that I have become beside myself and one at the same time with that reflective imagery. Probably too voracious an elocutionary appetite but what can I say? There is a superfluous example of mouthed waste and it could either cause concern for vacating knowledge or bring about substantial change to the likes of a magnitude never witnessed before. The boredom has taken my mind to a darkened and blacked out place of romantic run-off and interjection. It has given way to a fulcrum of profound austerity on which to balance the tongue and the throat for its intake of air. (gasp)....~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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