Languor, traction

There's a very fear for my head, unexpected, while I'm far too deep into some spectacular, edgy self-presentation — certainly, vain, but the next in turn; though every thing kept innermost. Well, tons of poisons have been caught inside us, bouquets & placers, and eventually we're discharged, — but in the depth of mine I obviously feel the ambrosial thing of pleasure, both any languor and unexplained traction; when I'd gone out in the gloomy morning, there was announcement in the sky, maybe kind of enlightment, see. —

And all of this will be found out by revolving shapes, facts of conciousness, these discomposed clusters. (A gelid assumption is always chasing effervescent prey of me, dreary without respire.) Displayed, unclothed heart at the top of voice.

Welcome, the long-awaited redemptive pain — for no sins of machine's material, but for circling lechery of the carnival, when the black dawn will has been fallen. Sounding of silent countdown, the somber sense is guttering down my frazzled backbone. — This eternal pain feels like a flowing sentence in future perfect, wedged by its own reaching structure, in which almost scintillate.

Nonetheless, this delicious and lavish feast will be finalized somehow, but just to reveal the canvas of its renewal: thread's germinating, hastening from the start, further eluding and hardening in ambitendently everlasting modus; for us: to unveil ourselves in discovering a few unoccupied islands to live, some vacant area, long since almightly needed.

28 сентября, 2023 год.