Designation arbitrary maintenant 52 royal not sanguine.
Libidinous accoutrement but contemporary icy aurora ici.
The odds must be beaten. Not your bloody black Irishman's
Black & Tan. Not your toiling, brooding, angst-shoveling,
Gen-X orphan but machined moments gagged by Gaza's
encrypted afterimage. Video of said orphan. Exhortation in
the name of exhortation appears tenuous. The iteration
was a cad's noblesse oblige. Le crayon est sur la fenêtre is
the poet's cultivated moodiness contrived by alembic means.
But don't analyze Fido. Fortune is kinda a soap opera.
"His prison moniker, mongrel, is conceptual." By scree I
judge you anomalous, O Even, Lovely, Insane Reader.
Out of control now, space hurries to the edge of "edge."
In line for crème fresh patisseries a la pathetique sans
entente, Isolde leered, held up the deck's one remaining card
--deuce of hearts! What did it mean? Existence meant
nothing? Now that I know, once I became knowledge.
The sky today is grey. Yesterday was a good day to water
blooms in a stupor. In the event I say anything, please defer.