Listless, Abigail falls arrogant within orchestrations randomly selected from sweaty palms and tabloids. Undeterred, Martha devises her means. Abigail concedes each argument with precise and sturdy palpitations toward a libidinous definitive, gracious to a fault. Even so, disturbational within the eminence of procedure, Martha quakes with unearthly groans and capitulates, point for point.
Ever meticulous within such desperation, events now soothe toward disingenuous men in bold calculation of their own derivations: Verdante partakes of tender, stark nuptials, his nudity an unambiguous amour ante, ever pre-textual, ever with reference to Benjamin, his once caressed; Carter, imbibing likewise in a proxy for the inarticulate, yearns for unmitigated wafts of fleeting mackeral, musk and vinegar, essentially parsing his trenchantly parched desires. Thus conjoined, their explicit subversions preamble toward the insurrection of potentially more amicable constitutionals.
Meanwhile, evaporating down nefarious vestibules, severed angels strike choral epiphanies of dusty angst, determined to foment false ministrations. Factions emerge, crusty with emboldened diatribe. Within this vortex, subsumed to aural pleasure, parallels of logic persist.
copyright 2012, Philip D. Luing
all rights reserved